#i would kill for more moments like this one Jo is learning but we never see Carina teaching her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iprobablyshipit91 · 1 year ago

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Im so happy you chose to drop another chapter early for us! I’ve been absolutely dying to read more. And can I just say that gif you chose 😍 his smile. Damn 🫠

So you know I’m also a fan of procedurals too and I love how you built up the firehouse in this. They do feel like such a family with the good natured bickering and I love all the personalities you managed to get in. Jack really embodied the probie perfectly with his eagerness to please and learn. Meg is certainly an interesting character. I kinda loved her sarcastic, spitfire personality. She’s definitely going to be an interesting one for sure. Intrigued to see chuck in this and again, similar to Gordon, knowing what we know about him on the show I’m intrigued as to what you’re going to do with his character.

I do wonder, because I know how clever a writer you are, is this story with Henry going to come back? Or is it just as it appears on the surface… giving jack a taste of how dark the job can be.

But deans thoughts of the reader just had me grinning so much! How he’s instantly drawn to her and the little details he fixes on. It made me all warm inside 🥰🥰

I loved the interaction between the two, the nerves and flirty banter was adorable. And the fact she baked to feed the five thousand was both hilarious and apt considering it’s the fire house.

But oh are you kidding me? This? This right here is the moment he decides to rein it in, curb his behaviour and be professional. Damn girl. You’re killing me 😂 I was sad to see Dean already assume he’s not going to be good enough, though that’s perfect for his character!

But the teasing 😂 ““Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”” I absolutely cackled at this one. I would pay to hear Meg do that impression of dean. And then benny and Gordon also didn’t disappoint… “Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).” Brilliant.

But ooh, first comment that has me wondering about Gordon… is he going to try it with the reader too? That would be interesting. Either way, I didn’t like his line and it gave such a stark contrast to deans own thoughts about her.

I love that you’ve also jumped straight into the drama. Not only do we have a murder, but a string of them and the same mark of the murderer of Mary Winchester. Damn you’re going deep here my friend and I love it. I look forward to trying to solve the case as this progresses. I do agree with Cas though, John keeping things from his boys never ends well.

Again I just want to say I’m so happy the reader has a friend like Dre. That flashback scene to Nick was foul. I’m not at all surprised he did it but it’s just such disgusting behaviour. I look forward to the reader ultimately getting the best of him as it has to happen right?

I enjoyed seeing the relationships build more with the guys. Cas and Megs relationship kinda sounds like my worst nightmare. I just couldn’t live with crazy like that 😂 it works for some I guess though lol. Love Sam and Eileen and I hope we get more of them too! I again loved the ribbing they gave him for his dating history. The carpet burns but made me laugh. Interesting about dean and jos past relationship and the reasons he backed off. I’m guessing that might get brought up again at some point…

I CANT BELIEVE YOU LEFT IT THERE. HOW COULD YOU DO THAT 😂 man it’s not even a cliffhanger yet and I’m dying for more. I just thought we were going to get some good stuff and Dean was finally going to go for it 😂🙈

I absolutely can’t wait for the next chapter. I’m hooked on this series completely already 💕 great job my friend, this was amazing!

Smoke Eater - Part 2

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester is the cocky, but well-respected Lieutenant at Firehouse 25. He leads by example, but he’s also known to break a few hearts. He’s starting to crave something he’s never had, though. Something stable. Something real.

That’s when he meets you, on a truly terrible day, trapped in a rickety old elevator.

AN: I was overwhelmed by the response on Part 1 (in the BEST way). 🥹 Thank you so much for everyone who read and sent me your lovely amazing comments! Here's Part 2 a bit early for ya. 😘

🔥Series Masterlist

Word Count: 6,400 Tags/Warnings: Idiots flirting, with a side of sexual harassment. 😪

Part 2: "Lieutenant Winchester"

Firehouse 25 was just as much a house as it was a home.

Especially for Dean Winchester.

In the common room, he sat down at his preferred corner of the sofa with a cup of coffee. By now, the guys knew this was his spot, perfectly angled toward the new flatscreen TV someone donated last month.

Up until then, they’d had to hotwire the same tank from 1995, which had only got basic cable. Now at least the newer smart TV came with a subscription to Netflix, courtesy of the donor.

Dean raised his favorite Batman mug to his face, expecting to imbibe some rich dark roast. What he got was a travesty.

Spitting out the brown soil water back into the mug, he coughed and grimaced.

“Jack!” he called out.

Jack Kline, the newest addition to the house, raised his head from where he was trying to scramble eggs in the open kitchen directly behind the couch.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” he replied.

“Why does this coffee taste like ass?” Dean asked. His voice was still gruff with sleep, as he depended on his morning coffee to wake him up, not assault his tongue.

Behind him, Jack blinked in confusion. “Uh…”

Dean finally turned around and gave the younger man a raised brow.

“What brand did you buy, Candidate?” he asked.

A candidate was a freshly graduated firefighter on probation. They were the rookie, the bottom rung of the totem pole, and Jack was that proverbial whipping post.

“Um…” Jack went to find the coffee canister he’d put away in the cupboards. He showed Dean the red plastic jug. “Folgers. It was on sale.”

“Fuck me,” Dean muttered. “Never Folgers, Candidate. Anything but fucking Folgers. The one thing we don’t skimp out on is quality joe.”

“That ain’t nothin’ but dirt water, son,” Benny remarked, as he and Gordon entered the common room. Benny held a to-go mug he’d brought from home. After he’d seen what Jack brought for groceries yesterday, he’d taken no chances.

“What you wanna get is Gevalia,” Benny added.

“That European crap?” said Gordon. He took his usual spot at the dining table, leaning back in his chair. It left Benny to sit at the other end of the couch with Dean.

“Better than that piss water you drink,” Benny said with a smirk. Gordon raised a brow at him.

“Tea is medicinal, jackass.” The Black man raised a finger to punctuate his point. “It’s good for you. Unlike that carburetor fluid y’all drink.”

“Whatever, man,” Dean said, even though a grin edged at his lips. “All I know is, we need premium coffee, stat. Or it’s gonna be a cranky shift.”

“I can go to the store real quick,” Jack offered.

Say what you want about the kid’s poor taste in grocery buying, he was always willing to jump in when you needed him.

“Nah, stay on breakfast,” said Dean. “I’ll go afterwards. But remember, today you’re practicing rappelling drills.”

Jack nodded. “And lunch duty. And helping clean the truck, and all the bathrooms…did I miss anything?”

Dean shared a look with Gordon. Not only did he drive the truck, but he was one of the men Dean relied on most, as he had the next highest seniority on the job out of the whole firehouse.

Well, except for Benny Lafitte, Captain of the Rescue Squad. Squad members were considered specialists in complex rescue situations. They were highly trained on more sophisticated technical rescue equipment and rappelling, even scuba diving.

It took long years for a firefighter to make it onto Squad; something that Dean used to have ambitions for. But ever since he got promoted to Lieutenant on Truck 79, he realized that his role in this house was best served on the Truck, not on Squad.

“If he gets through all that, Meg might have something for him too,” Gordon said.

“Oh, don’t bring me into this,” remarked a droll voice. “I’ve already got one pound puppy to look after.”

Their Paramedic in Charge strode in with Chuck on her heels. They’d just pulled into the firehouse driveway on Ambulance 7.

“Nice. That’s how you talk about your partner of three years?” Chuck said with a frown. Meg turned to him with a wry grin.

“Only the ones who can hack it on my Ambo,” she replied. “What can I say. You’re special, Shurley. Either that, or a glutton for punishment.”

Gordon shook his head and looked over at Jack.

“Careful with that one. She chewed and hacked out her last partner in under a month.”

“Poor guy didn’t even transfer,” Dean added, making a “flatlining” motion with his hand. “He just quit. Dropped out of the Fire Academy that same day.”

Not all firefighters were made through Meg’s department, but it was a common route, working as a paramedic while getting put through your paces in the Fire Academy. Dean himself had gone straight to the Academy after getting his EMT certification.

But at Dean’s words, Jack’s eyes widened a fraction. Meg turned to him with an almost feline smile.

“How was the call?” Benny asked her, speaking of the job they’d just returned from. Meg’s expression dimmed a little, as did Chuck’s as they both sat down at the table.

“Ah, just Henry again,” she said. “Overdosed on his insulin.”

Benny frowned, while Dean shook his head. Jack’s brows furrowed.

“Who’s Henry?” he asked.

Meg sat back in her chair with a subtle sigh. Knowing his work partner’s mood, Chuck answered the young man’s question.

“He’s homeless, lives by the river,” he said. “He’s one of our ‘regulars,’ you could say. When we get the call, usually he’s passed out. Dehydration. But sometimes it’s more serious.”

“You can’t take him to the hospital?” Jack asked in concern.

“Today we did,” Meg said. Her brown eyes met Jack’s, her mouth in a thin line. “But without health insurance, there’s only so much they can do after they get him stable.”

That fell a bit heavily into the room. It wasn’t a pleasant fact, but it was the reality. Jack was learning more and more about that aspect of this job, and learning if he could handle the darker shades of what it could bring.

“Well, breakfast is ready,” he said, bringing a large plate of eggs and toast onto the counter. Dean tossed him an appreciative half-smile and got up from the couch.

“Thanks, kid,” he said, walking over along with everyone else. He took a moment to pat Jack on the shoulder.

“What do you want to do first: run drills, or help me and Gordon wash the truck?” Dean asked.

Jack looked up with a smile. “Can we run drills first?”

Dean nodded, grinning back at him. “Good answer.”

The rest of the Truck and Squad crews ambled in at both the announcement and the smell of food. And before long, the common room was filled with conversation, good-natured teasing, and shitty coffee all around.

From his vantage point facing the open door to the driveway, Benny caught sight of a young woman heading towards the double doors with a large tupperware bin in hand. Bonnie the receptionist happened to be coming in at the same time. You asked her a question Benny couldn’t quite hear.

“Dean… Oh, you’re looking for Lieutenant Winchester?” Bonnie asked. Her voice tended to carry. “Right in there, hun.”

“Well, that sure is interesting,” Benny murmured with a smile. He glanced over slyly at his friend. “Heads up, brother.”

Dean looked up from his plate of eggs expectantly. Benny gestured over with his eyes, just as you walked into the firehouse, both cautious and unsure of where you were going.

Dean’s brows raised. He found himself setting down his plate and getting up from the couch before he really knew what he was doing.

You looked exactly how he remembered. Though this time, you weren’t coffee stained in your professional blouse and black pencil skirt. His attention drew briefly downwards to your heels, this time solid black (and even taller than the last pair, damn).

He noticed all the same things he had last time: the shade of your hair, pinned up again with a clip as stray pieces framed your face. The way you carried yourself when you finally saw him, straightening with a subtle confidence in your shoulders, even though you looked a bit nervous. And the pretty curve of your lips when your eyes found his.

“Hey, there,” Dean said. He gave you one of his trademark smiles. “Good to see you again.”

“Uh, hi,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I guess I don’t have to ask if you remember me.”

Dean nodded. “‘Course I do. What can I do for you?”

Your face seemed to freeze up a bit as you looked up at him.

“Oh, um, nothing really. I just wanted to say thank you, again,” you said. And you glanced past him, where the rest of the firehouse members were discreetly watching. “All of you, actually. And my friend told me that firefighters really like food…but, I mean, doesn’t everyone?”

You laughed a little, in a nervous way that made Dean struggle not to smile too much.

“Anyway, I like to bake,” you twittered on, “and I had some time this week after…well, you know what happened. So…I brought this!”

You raised up your tupperware with a smile.

And you were damn adorable, Dean thought. His own smile deepened as he glanced down at the offering, then at you. He took the container and opened the lid, and was honestly surprised at what he saw.

He could’ve sworn these were Bonafede, just-poured-out-of-the-box Girl Scout cookies. Dozens of them. He saw shortbreads (complete with the little wavy lines), Samoa cookies with the coconut flakes, and even what looked like chocolate covered Thin Mints. They also smelled delicious.

“Wow. Thanks, sweetheart,” he said, with genuine warmth. “I’m pretty sure the guys are gonna tear these apart the second I put ‘em down.”

Your face brightened, and Dean noticed how it reached your eyes with a bit of a blush.

“Well, I hope you guys enjoy,” you said. Your hands fiddled with your purse next.

“Heading off to work now?” he asked.

“Yep,” you nodded, with a certain glint in your eye. “I plan on taking the stairs this time.”

Dean raised a brow. “All 22 floors?”

“Gotta get my steps in somehow,” you joked. “Besides, I wouldn’t want to become a repeat offender, make you guys come all the way back across town again.”

“Aw, I wouldn’t mind,” he said, meeting your eyes. And he found that he meant it. In fact, he didn’t think he’d mind if your building’s elevator broke down every damn week.

Your expression shifted towards amusement. “Well, you must be very dedicated to your job.”

“Protect and serve,” Dean teased back. “That’s our motto, you know.”

“Isn’t that for police officers?” you quipped.

He chuckled. “Hey, if the shoe fits.”

“Well…” you considered that with a tilt of your head, more seriously than he expected you to. You met him with a more earnest gaze. “I think it does.”

Right then, Dean had a feeling, deep in his gut, that he needed to know you. He had half a mind to heed his instincts, to take advantage of the signals he thought you were sending him, and ask if he could take you out sometime.

But it was unprofessional here at the firehouse (not that that had stopped him before). He’d been making efforts to curb that kind of behavior for the past few months.

He also remembered the 30 floors of your massive, fancy office building. He considered the price tags that probably came with the admittedly sexy, high-powered corporate look you had going on. Those were probably a lot more zeros than he was used to seeing on his paycheck.

So for once, he didn’t pull the trigger.

“Well, thanks. I really do appreciate that,” Dean replied. His smile then was more sincere, if also more professional. He gestured at the container in his hand. “And on behalf of all the guys, thanks for this too.”

“You’re welcome,” you replied. “I have to go, but…thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester.”

“Ah,” he shook his head, “just call me Dean.”

You agreed by smiling, just a little bit more.

“Dean.”

He nodded back, sending you off with a smile of his own. He forced himself to taper it down after you left, and he had to turn around to meet his friends. Their grins reminded him of piranhas.

“All right. Out with it, you freakin’ jackals.” He waved his free hand in a “bring it on” gesture.

Meg was the first one to burst out laughing. It spearheaded the rest of them, whooping and catcalling and generally being menaces. Even Jack was grinning at his lieutenant’s expense.

Meg got up from her seat and bumped Dean’s shoulder on her way to the kitchen, where she dumped her dishes.

“Thanks again, Lieutenant Winchester,” she mocked in a saccharine sweet voice. Then she lowered it into an exaggerated mimic of his deeper one, “Call me Dean, baby girl. Fucking priceless. You should get your own Hallmark movie.”

Dean rolled his eyes. He’d been prepared for this, but his face was still getting warm.

“Shut up, Meg,” he tossed back. They all had an ongoing Family Guy joke that never failed to make their PIC narrow her eyes. And she did so now, giving him a fake grimace as she left the kitchen.

“All right, kiddos. If you need me, don’t,” she said. “Chuck! Let’s sort the ambo’s inventory.”

“Got it,” her partner nodded. He too got up and placed his dishes in the sink before he took off after Meg.

This left Dean with the rest of the guys, who still gave him knowing smiles as he set your bin of cookies down on the table. He blew out a breath before he returned to the couch and sat down heavily across from Benny and Gordon.

“I never thought I’d see the day that Dean Winchester bitched out,” Gordon remarked.

Once again, Dean rolled his eyes.

“Truly incredible,” Benny added. He shook his head when Dean just crossed his arms. “She was eying you like a pork cutlet, and you just let her walk outta here.”

“We’re in the house, guys. What was I supposed to do?” Dean groused.

Benny and Gordon looked at him like he’d just denounced Led Zeppelin (his favorite band of all time).

“Get her goddamn number, Winchester,” said Gordon. The man’s lips curved. “Or at least, introduce her to a brother.”

Dean shot him a glance. Gordon Walker was damn good at driving the truck, but he was also known for being a hunter of the ladies himself.

“She seemed nice,” Jack put his two cents in with a smile. He was standing behind the couch, leaning his elbows on it. Gordon scoffed, nodding his agreement.

“Yeah, with a fat ass too,” he said, sipping his tea.

Benny reached over and hit his shoulder to shut him up.

“That’s a lady, Gordon,” he said. Though a suspect smile graced his lips as he glanced at Dean. “A lady with a nice ass.”

Dean shook his head, but he couldn’t disagree. The first time he met you, he’d been impressed by the way you stood your ground with your asshole boss. Dean thought you were going to chuck that lethal looking heel at the guy. But behind that steely exterior was a kind little softie.

Today, he got your sweet side. It was equal parts sexy and adorable.

And damn if you didn’t have a nice ass, nice curves, and a nice mouth.

But your eyes, he thought. Those were nothing short of beautiful.

About twenty minutes across town, an apartment building was swarmed by police cars. One unit in particular was sealed off with yellow caution tape as a team of officers drifted in and out.

What a fucked way to die.

Detective John Winchester observed the unnatural angle that the victim—Jerry Stillwell, a certified public accountant—had his throat cut with a jagged weapon.

It hadn’t been clean in the least. And he’d bled out across his work desk and a stack of papers, as well as his desktop computer. He was 45, unmarried, and murdered in his own home in the middle of a Friday afternoon.

The computer wouldn’t turn on, and not because of the blood. It had been wiped with magnetized technology, most likely by the intruder. Though there was no sign of forced entry, according to John’s partner. The murder weapon was missing as well, though it looked like a knife wound.

John leaned over the on-site medical examiner’s shoulder to peer closer at the man’s wounds. Stillwell had most likely been grabbed from behind. So far, the signs pointed to the culprit being someone the victim knew.

They probably took Stillwell by surprise, but he was a large man. If John had to guess, over 250 pounds, unathletic, but still, not easy to overpower. Likely the suspect was a man over 6 feet; strong, and efficient. Though the messiness of the kill made John think this guy took "pride" his work, so to speak.

“Signs of struggle,” said the M.E. “Skin under the fingernails. He fought back, and…huh.”

John’s interest piqued at the man’s shift in tone. “What?”

“Take a look at this.” The M.E. was holding Stillwell’s right hand, palm-up, revealing a small burn on the inside of the wrist. John’s gaze sharpened on the mark.

“Cas, come here,” he said. Across the room, Detective Cas Novak paused in his task of examining the entry points of the apartment to join John at his side. His blue eyes widened a fraction at seeing the burn. It was a symbol of a snake eating its own tail.

“That makes four,” Cas said.

“Yep. We’ve got ourselves a murder cluster,” John said. Cas nodded. He beckoned John to the side, making sure the M.E. was out of earshot before he spoke. “Isn’t it time we brought Sam up to speed on this, at least?”

John’s brows furrowed.

“No,” he said. “Sam’s an ADA. We don’t go to him until we have someone to indict.”

He walked away from Cas, who frowned. John knew damn well that wasn’t what he meant. This was the fourth murder within six months of this nature. The fourth to be branded with the mark of Azazel…a criminal who supposedly disappeared decades ago.

Shortly after November 2, 1983, the day of Mary Winchester’s death.

Seeing Dean again had gone better than you thought it would. It left you feeling light and downright cheerful when you left the firehouse this morning. Unfortunately, the great start to your morning only crumbled when you reached your office.

Now, even at the end of your day, finally back at home and in the familiarity of your kitchen, the tension headache was back.

“Dre, I’m tired. Can’t we do this another night?” you asked.

Your cell phone was balanced between your ear and your shoulder as you counted out your grandfather’s pills, and placed them in each “Monday through Sunday” box in the blue container.

“No, we absolutely cannot. Because today was horrific,” Andréa said. “For me, because my coworker decided to play hookie on the day our top account needed the mockups of their new website. Never mind that she hadn’t even started.”

Pause for an aggravated breath, through which you frowned in sympathy. She’d told you the entire story over lunch today.

“And for you, because Nick once again displayed why he’s a subhuman neanderthal, in spectacular fashion,” she added.

Your grimace deepened at the reminder.

Earlier today, just before a sales meeting you were set to lead, you’d turned away from the conference table to set up the projector. Nick was early for once, making it just him and you in the room.

He’d sat back in his chair and uttered a remark that set the hairs on the back of your neck on end.

“I’ll tell you what, babe. You sure know how to wear a skirt.”

Your back straightened, and slowly you turned. Your face was set in stone, save for a solitary raise of your brow.

“Excuse me?”

Nick’s smirk was lazy as he kicked his feet up on the table. His hand held a tumbler of whiskey. You noted the half empty carafe, which just yesterday had been full and untouched.

“Fucking fantastic legs,” he said, vaguely outlining your shape with his hand. “I applaud you. It’s all very…sexy secretary. Oooh! Sexcretary. Fucking brilliant.”

You gaped, trying to put a clamp on the furious spike in your blood.

“Are you drunk?” you asked incredulously.

He raised his fingers an inch or so apart, scrunching up his face and trying not to laugh.

“Actually nah, not at all,” he bluffed.

He let his hand fall back into his lap. You shook your head and set down your papers in order to cross your arms.

“Good. Then you’ll hear me clearly when I say, I’m filing a formal complaint with Billie in HR,” you said.

“Whaaat? Why?” he complained. You huffed incredulously.

“For your little comments, which are getting more and more heinous. Not to mention your excessive drinking during company hours.”

Nick pursed his lips. “Christ on a stick. Can’t you take a fucking compliment?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “What I refuse to take is any further sexual harassment. This isn’t the first incident I could disclose, but I’m damn sure you’ll want it to be the last.”

He kicked his feet off the table and slowly stood. You didn’t want to be afraid of this sloppy, frat boy drunken attitude, but a tendril of trepidation still laced down your spine as you took a step back.

“You could do that,” he nodded, tilting his head. “Or, I’ll give your Zimmerman account to Josh, along with your commission.”

You frowned, and shock made your entire body tense.

“You…you can’t do that!” you exclaimed. Your insides fairly shook with frustration tinged with anger. “I’ll sue you.”

“With what money?” Nick scoffed.

Your brows knitted together then. How the hell would he know anything about your finances?

The man noted your reaction with a nod.

“Yeah, I know all about grammy and gramps. Surgeries, funerals, treatments…” he said. He leaned against the table with one hand, and still he fairly loomed over you.

He wasn't as broad as someone like Dean, but he was tall and lean. His dirty blonde hair was swept to the side, his blue eyes bearing down on you.

“I am this company. If you don’t like it, you can get the fuck out, sweetheart,” he said.

His gaze lowered, roaming your glowering face.

“And good luck getting anywhere else without a reference from one of the biggest corporations in Lawrence, Kansas.”

You sighed. Yeah, you might’ve shed some frankly embarrassing tears in the women’s bathroom after that. You hadn’t even told Andréa the full story, which included the details of his comments, along with his threats.

You didn’t want her to worry. And maybe, more selfishly, you were embarrassed at having to deal with it at all.

Truth be told, you still didn’t know what the hell you were going to do. About Nick, or your job…but somehow, getting drunk at a bar seemed about the last thing you should be doing.

“I need a drink,” Andréa insisted. “Which means you definitely need a drink. And I know exactly where we’re going.”

After a long moment, you leaned your elbows on the kitchen counter and rubbed through the persistent ache in your forehead. Maybe, just this once, you deserved to forget about reality. Just for a little while.

“Fine. Where?” you asked.

“It’s this great bar Meg told me about. The Roadhouse.”

“Ah, the usual suspects,” Ellen drawled at the men who managed to find seats at her bar, next to the rest of their party. The Roadhouse was packed on a Friday night, but she always had room for these two.

Benny and Dean wore similar tired, but pleasant smiles as they greeted their esteemed barkeep.

“What’s it been, Ellen, a whole shift since I’ve seen your delightful face?” Dean said.

Ellen gave him a mocking smile as she poured him his favorite beer on tap. Dean grinned and clapped his younger brother on the shoulder as he sat down. He and Cas had been waiting for a little while.

…Well, maybe longer than a little.

“Hey, dude,” Dean said. Sam perked up from his second beer with pursed lips.

“You know we’ve been waiting on you for like an hour, right?” he said.

“Aw, don’t get your panties in a twist, Sammy,” Dean teased. He nodded his thanks at Ellen when she set his beer in front of him, and a glass of whiskey for Benny. “We had a last-minute call. Some guy just couldn’t wait to start his Happy Hour. Drove his car into the company fountain.”

Sam’s brows raised incredulously. He looked over at Benny for confirmation, and the other man gave a resigned nod.

“Apparently it set the ducks into a tizzy,” he said. “The guy’s fine. Probably gonna get slapped with a DUI.”

Dean smirked and raised a finger at both Sam and Cas. “Duck Guy’s your problem now.”

Cas shook his head and raised his beer to his lips.

“Not my department.”

“Mine either,” Sam scoffed. Both of them worked in homicide cases, just from the differing sides of law and order. In fact, they worked together more often than Dean and Cas did.

Dean looked over at his friend Cas for a moment. He looked like more of a hot mess than usual, with his tie half undone, and a scruffy half-beard covering his face.

“Geez, man. You look like shit,” Dean remarked. “You and Meg fighting again?”

“No,” Cas replied, his brows furrowing. “…Well, yes. But nothing more than her usual insanity. Something about the cat preferring to sleep next to me than to her.”

“Well, that’s not so bad,” Benny said. “My dog don’t like her either.”

“Maybe they can smell that she’s feral,” Dean quipped. Cas sent him a dry look at that.

“She threatened to move out,” he revealed. “Even packed a bag at 3:00 in the morning. I spent two hours unpacking what she was re-packing, all while we argued in our underwear, not sleeping.”

Sam and Dean shared bemused looks, while Benny shook his head into his whiskey.

“So how’d it end up?” Sam asked. Cas sighed and took another long sip of his beer.

“Like it always ends, Sam,” he said, his lips quirking. “With our neighbors calling the precinct to complain, and me, somehow ending up sleeping on the couch for a crime I didn’t commit. If she wants to blame someone, blame the goddamn cat.”

Dean chortled. He brought his beer to his lips, but couldn’t resist a light jab at his best friend first.

“Dude, I love her like a sister, but your girlfriend’s unhinged,” he said.

Cas could only nod. “Most are, I’ve come to find.”

Sam scoffed and shook his head. “Not mine.”

“Yeah, that’s because Eileen doesn’t have to see you more than two minutes at a time,” Dean teased. He and his brother still shared an apartment, and Sam’s job as an Assistant District Attorney wrought demanding hours.

Sam shot his brother a flat look.

“Oh, I’m not taking that from the serial playboy,” he said.

Dean’s brows knitted together.

“All right, calm down,” he said. “I’m not Hugh Hefner.”

“Mr. Hit and Run,” Cas added, a smirk gracing his features.

“Chief ‘No Daddy Issues,’” Benny tipped in, giving his annoyed, green-eyed friend a sly glance. “With a side helping of the Clap.”

Dean’s lips pressed into a line. He leveled a finger at Benny.

“That girl was clean, okay? False alarm,” Dean said. His gaze raised heavenward as he sipped his beer. Thank Christ for that one. “The rash was just carpet burn.”

Sam shook his head and turned to his brother more seriously.

“Bottom line: until you date a woman for more than two weeks—hell, two days at a time—you don’t get to comment on the happily committed,” he said.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew his track record with relationships. As in, he didn’t really have a record…but it wasn’t for lack of trying. At least, not for the past few months.

Sam managed to break Dean out of his thoughts by clearing his throat, pushing his empty bottle across the counter.

“All right, speaking of. I gotta go,” he said.

“Aw, why? We just got here. Let me buy you another,” Dean offered.

Sam shot his brother another knowing look. Dean knew it well; it said, if he’d been here on time, they would’ve shared the first two drinks.

“I’m picking up Eileen,” Sam said, grabbing his blazer and fixing the collar when he put it on. “There’s this Latin club she wants to go to.”

Dean raised incredulous brows.

“My brother’s going salsa dancing?”

Sam sighed in exasperation, despite his smile. “Bye, Dean.”

He shot his other two friends a nod.

“See you guys.”

Cas and Benny both saw him off with a subtle raise of their drinks, while Dean just shook his head.

“All right, Samantha,” he called out. Sam didn’t bother to turn around as he raised up a choice finger behind him.

Dean snorted into his drink. “Very mature.”

Benny and Cas shared a wry look. They were relieved when Ellen’s daughter Jo came by, picking up the slack for her mom, who was serving a rowdy group of college kids at a nearby table.

“Hey, guys. Need another round?” Jo asked. She gave them all a familiar smile, but her eyes lingered on Dean. He gave her a more reserved smile back.

“Hey, Jo,” he nodded. “I uh…actually think I’m good right now.”

“Me too,” Cas said. He even stood up and grabbed his trenchcoat in similar fashion as Sam had. The two had paid for their beers before Benny and Dean even got there.

“Aw, not you too,” Dean groused.

“If I don’t make dinner, we run the risk of the apartment going up in flames,” Cas informed him. Dean couldn’t only assume he was talking about Meg. “Despite working with the Fire Department for ten years, the woman can’t manage to boil an egg without supervision.”

Jo raised a brow, but her smile was bemused as she turned to Benny. “Anything for you?”

“Nah, darlin’. I’m good,” he said. But sensing the unspoken request in her eyes when she glanced at Dean, Benny straightened and raised from his seat. “But I’ll be back. Need’a hit the head.”

Dean internally sighed as Benny left him alone at the bar. Or, well, relatively alone. Jo lingered in front of him to wash and dry out a few glasses. The air between them was stiff, and a little awkward.

Dean’s thoughts shifted back to his brother then; while he still couldn’t believe Eileen had wrangled his gangly Sasquatch of a brother into going dancing, Dean was happy for him. Truly and sincerely. Sam deserved having someone who softened him, made him break away from his endless cases and have some fun.

Dean could also admit, if only to himself, that he was maybe a little jealous. Sam had something good with his girl. Something real.

Dean had carpet burn.

“So, how’s studying going?” he asked Jo. He couldn’t stand awkward silences. “Still planning on giving your mom a heart attack when you get into the Police Academy?”

Jo’s blue eyes flicked up to his. She brushed a coil of blond hair behind her ear after she finished drying a glass, and a smile raised the corner of her lips.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I gave her something to yell about,” she quipped. “But since you asked…my exam is in three months.”

“Good,” Dean nodded. “You’ve got time. Study your ass off. Keep up the conditioning routine I gave you, and you’ll be set. Just don’t forget the strength training. Very important.”

“I got it,” she said, this time with a brighter smile. “Some old firefighter gave me some pointers.”

Dean tilted his beer at her accusingly.

“Hey, don’t pin that old shit on me yet. Benny’s got more mileage than I do…”

He considered her then, after briefly looking down at the counter.

“What?” she said.

He kept his lips tight. “Nothin’.”

“No, Dean. What?” Jo pressed. “You want to say something. Say it.”

He blew out a breath and shook his head.

“Ellen’s not the only one who’s gonna worry about you on the job, that’s all,” he said. Jo flickered at a rueful frown.

“That’s ironic,” she said. “I can handle myself, Dean. Something you so often seem to forget.”

“That’s not fair, and you know it,” he shot back. His hand tightened around his beer.

Jo’s face fell into irritation, mostly to cover up the hurt he saw buried deep behind her eyes. She gave him some relief by glancing away from him.

“And this is why we didn’t work out,” she muttered. Sighing through her nose, her eyes met his again. “You know what I hate, more than anything? People worrying.”

Dean carded his fingers through his hair, his brows knitting together in aggravation.

“Yeah, well, maybe they have good reason to,” he said. He could’ve predicted the way she tightened up. “And if I remember right, you did your fair share of hand-wringing the next time I responded to a fire on the job.”

He knew it was a low blow. But his point was made, and he fully expected the anger in Jo’s tight frown. They’d dated for a few weeks, mostly in secret.

That had been enough for Ellen to blow her top. Not because she had anything against Dean…just his job: at the very same firehouse her late husband had once served.

So Dean had backed off. He’d ultimately felt he had to end it. And clearly, Jo still resented him for it.

Slowly, however, the fire in her eyes dimmed. Her finger tapped on her side of the bar counter.

“You think I don’t worry anymore just because we’re not together?” she asked him.

Dean didn’t have a good answer for her. So his gaze fell to his nearly empty beer.

But he was even more relieved when Benny finally got back from the bathroom, or wherever he’d fucked off to for the past few minutes.

He did seem to know that he was interrupting a rather tense moment. Seeing as neither Dean nor Jo wanted to break the silence, Benny supposed it fell on him.

He reclaimed his seat and raised a smile up at Jo.

“I think I’m ready for the next round,” he said, glancing at Dean’s soured mood. “Two whiskeys, please, Joanna.”

Jo treated Benny with a half-smile. He was the only one besides her mother who called her Joanna (and got away with it). After one last look at Dean, she reached over for the Jim Beam.

You met Andréa at the bar in your own car, just in case you needed to dip out early to check on Grandpa George. He was happy to see you going out.

“You’re pretty as a doll, sweetheart,” he’d said, patting your cheek after you kissed his goodbye.

The thought made you smile, even though you thought you were dressed casually in your dark wash jeans and blouse. When Andréa met you outside the bar, she nodded in approval.

“Good. I like the hint of sexy,” she said, plucking at the sweetheart neckline of your top. You rolled your eyes and tried to cover up the cleavage a little, but she batted at your hand.

“No, no. Leave your professionalism at work,” she said. “Tonight, you’re going to relax and have some fun.”

It was hard to think about loosening up when you were literally getting belittled and threatened at work…but you supposed she had a point. You always had to be put together. You had to be sharp, because this world wouldn’t hand you anything on a silver platter.

And not to mention, you couldn’t just think about yourself. You also had to provide and take care of your grandfather too. He was the only family you had left, and you were it for him too…

But you took in a slow, deep breath. Tonight, you could have a couple of drinks with your friend. You could just be yourself, with no responsibilities other than not getting too drunk to drive yourself home later.

So with a sigh, you smiled and linked your arm with Andréa as you headed inside the Roadhouse.

It looked kind of divey from the outside, a worn-looking brown building with a faded red sign. But inside it was all dark wood and leather barstools and rows of soft lighting overhead.

There were records displayed on the wall; Prince’s Purple Rain, the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, and David Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, among others. Boston’s “More Than a Feeling” played on the wall speakers.

There were several tables, both high top and regular four-seaters, as well as a long bar that spanned the far wall, where rows and rows of liquor were showcased. You followed Andréa’s lead to the bar, where you took a seat at the far end and tried to feel like you belonged here. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d gone out to a place like this.

“This is nice,” she leaned over into your ear to say. “Next time my cousin should meet us here. She’s a handful, but I think you’d like her.”

You agreed with a smile. “If she’s anything like you, I think I’m well trained to handle your brand of insanity.”

Andréa leveled you with a playfully mocking look.

“Ah, you’ve got jokes tonight. Okay.” She waved over the blonde bartender.

“Hi, ladies,” she greeted. “I’m Jo. What’re we starting off with tonight?”

Before you could order for yourself, Andréa grabbed your arm and spoke over you.

“Do you have absinthe?” she asked.

Your eyes widened. “What?! I’m not drinking that—”

“Sure do,” Jo replied in amusement.

“Great,” said Andréa. You didn’t like her sly grin. “She’ll have an Aunt Roberta. I’ll have a vodka cranberry.”

“What the hell is an Aunt Roberta?” you asked.

Jo listed the ingredients on her fingers. “A nice molotov of brandy, vodka, gin, blackberry liqueur, and of course, absinthe.”

Jesus Christ. You shot Andréa a glare, even though you were trying to dim your smile.

“Are you trying to chill me out or fucking end me?” you asked.

Andréa smirked. “Whatever it takes.”

You rolled your eyes, but you nodded your agreement. Jo’s smile remained as she went to prepare your drinks. Meanwhile, your eyes wandered as you once again took in your surroundings.

Really is a cool place, you thought. And it was busy without being overbearingly crowded. There were even a few seats between you and the rest of the patrons at the bar. Your gaze drew a path onwards, eventually reaching the other end of the bar.

There you caught sight of red flannel over a black undershirt, familiar broad shoulders, and an even more familiar face. Your eyes widened a fraction as his met yours, gleaming with recognition…and interest.

That slow smile of his was familiar too. It made a lance of heat run down your spine. You gripped the counter, mostly to steady yourself as you let out a breath.

Lieutenant Winchester.

AN: *rubs hands together* It begins. 😏

Lol how'd you like Dean's little moment with the reader at the firehouse? Plus the introduction of the rest of our cast!

(And a possible serial killer on the loose?) Though sorry about Nick. He's a douchecanoe.

Next Time:

Anticipation and nerves coiled together in your lower belly. You turned to your friend, who was already sipping at her vodka cranberry.

“Dre, help me,” you pleaded.

Andréa discreetly followed the path of your gaze, and her brows raised. A smirk curved her lips.

“Oh, babe. You need to help yourself,” she replied.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” you admitted. Your dating life had been sorely lacking, between the demands of your job and taking care of things at home. “I’m gonna say something demented.”

Andréa huffed in amusement.

“So? That’s half the fun,” she said.

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @katherineann814 @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

#fic rec #dean winchester x reader #firefighter!dean winchester x reader #lieutenant winchester #firefighter!dean winchester #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you

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crescentcityhellmouth-rpg · 2 years ago

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Out Of Character

Name/Alias: Koya Age: 29 NSFW Personal Preference: I’m comfortable with smut, but I prefer to keep it short and sweet under most circumstances or we can fade to black. Series/Season: S6. Canon Changes: Never turns into a heretic. Activity Level: Mostly on afternoons. Time Zone: EST. RP Experience: 17yrs on various sites. Best Mode of Contact: Discord.

In-Character

Desired Character: Malachai Parker Age: 22 OTP / NOTP: Malachai x Bonnie Housing: Hyperion Hotel. Room 222.

Interview questions.

01. Give us your thoughts on New Orleans?

☆°•》 "Overrated... Too many tourists and prop magic shops. The parties do get pretty wild though, I'll give it that." 《•°☆

02. Tell us how you feel about your species, and if you could change it what would you choose to be and why?

☆°•》 "I'm a witch with no magic. Do you really have to ask?" 《•°☆ ?

03. Please describe the most important person to you and why?

☆°•》 "Me, of course... I know, shocker." 《•°☆

04. Detail a specific point in time that has detrimentally changed you?

☆°•》 "I think it was more a series of events really. The day I found out I was a siphon, the day my parents and the rest of my coven found out, the day I learned I would never be allowed to merge with Jo, the day I killed my family... y'know.. The usual." 《•°☆

05. Explain (a few) bad habit(s) in detail that you’ve picked up over the years, if you remember when you started it describe that pivotal moment as well as what you’ve tried to do to cope with it?

☆°•》 "Compartmentalization. Which innately my therapist said wasn't such a bad thing. Until around eight years old when I started repressing all of my emotions. Then when mom and dad found out what I was counseling was no longer an option to try and fix me. So, y'know, I didn't really care to cope anymore." 《•°☆

Playlist.

• Blood // Water — grandson • parents — YUNGBLUD • I WANNA BE YOUR SLAVE — Måneskin

Paragraph sample.

Malachai was intrigued by the big easy. As far as he could tell it was nothing like Portland or Mystic Falls. Magic seeped from the earth and there was a shop on nearly every corner. He wandered into quite a few, but none held quite the legitimate stockpile of goodies like the Magic Box. & the owner, a petite little blonde thing, radiated something of a magical energy herself. One in which he never quite encountered before, what struck him as odd though is that she hardly seemed bothered by his mannerisms and as she hurriedly made her way into the back room to grab a restock of low inventory items, he briefly thought on how these damned emotions caused him to lose his touch. Minutes after that someone else made their way into the neat little shop, but he was almost too distracted to turnaround. That is, of course, until he heard her voice. & for a moment he stood there almost too stunned to speak. As if struck by some kind of a feeling he couldn't even quite accurately describe to turn around and face her, his heart racing as small beads of sweat pooled at his temples. ☆°•》"Bonnie," he breathed out her name, an inaudible whisper before he managed to muster up the courage to face her now. "Wolfsbane, huh," He mused weakly at first. "Regular fencing not doing its job? You decide to take matters into your own hands and put down that aggressive dog? I could help, y'know.. If you want me to." 《•°☆ 《☆°• 'If you want me to?' He thought. 'Dammit.' The swell of unidentifiable emotions now whirling inside him as he looked down at her, his cobalt blue eyes now bore into her emerald, green ones. Hoping she could see what he was struggling to feel. •°☆》

#admin koya application

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lacallemojada · 3 years ago

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Carina teaching Jo // Grey's Anatomy s18e08

(okay, was anybody going to tell me that Carina was in the last GA episode or was I just supposed to feel like watching the episode (2 days later) and find out myself?)

#grey's anatomy #GA #jo wilson #carina deluca #atticus lincoln #i would kill for more moments like this one Jo is learning but we never see Carina teaching her #with Addison was different she taught Alex ffs and we saw all the process #and i know carina is no a main character BUT SHE SHOULD #her and jo would make a great duo they already kind of are even if we've only seen interact in like five ocassions #so unfair and stupid leaving the best OB (Jo said it in s17) out.........#Carina you are doing so amazing! you should have your own show #Jo my beloved you are doing great too but you should stop all this Link bulshit and study more #also sylvia stop whining and let them work!!!!!#GAedit #by apf

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mangora · 3 years ago

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Hi I’m frothing at the mouth rn but I’m thinking about how Dakota taking over as the host for Treasure Island of Dr. McLean instead of mutating would actually improve the season on so many levels so here’s my concept for the episode long post not proofread:

•First of all I’m keeping Anne Maria in the running because her elimination was BS and this is gonna make more sense just wait. She is on Jo’s team now though

•Everyone wakes up and is like “wtf. Why isn’t Chris waking us up. Where’s the food.” Also they’re all recovering from the mine incident still and worried there’s going to be a repeat. Jo especially feels bad about voting off Brick for saving everyone, and Anne Maria is upset at Jo and Lightning for voting off Brick for saving her friends (specifically Cameron who she sees as a younger brother and Mike who she still thinks is Vito). Also theres soooo much tension between Mike and Scott it’s unreal they are both ready to kill.

•Dakota emerges and is like surprise fuck Chris I’m host now it’s what I deserve after the intern work. And she makes them do like menial labor to create her brand like idk building her studio and having them make her a pina colada. Everyone is annoyed. Zoey is this close to snapping but still wants to be nice and w start getting like allusion to commando zoey.

•So Anne Maria, Jo, and Zoey team up to sabotage Dakota to get her to leave, meanwhile Mike and Scott reluctantly agree to work together to get Sam from the Playa Des Losers across the lake and use him as a bargaining chip. I also think it would be cool if we got some foreshadowing to Mike’s juvie skills he learned from Mal here and Scott was really impressed by them.

•Anne Maria and Jo teach Zoey how to toughen up, and Zoey makes them realize they don’t have to fight all the time, and they all become good friends.

•Cameron and Lightning are the only ones left and Cameron suggests they put their power together to stand up to her. Lightning takes pity on him and they do, I think this will make Cameron’s “betrayal” later sting more and make the finale more meaningful because now theyll have a past.

•Dakota finds out no one is doing their work and goes fucking bonkers and decides to sic all the mutant beasts on them.

•Jo makes it up to Anne Maria and everyone who Brick saved and also kind of Brick by following his advice of not leaving anyone behind and getting everyone into a safe spot and leading them to fuck up the mutants. I just think these kids deserve to beat up some weird monsters they’ve had a rough time

•Meanwhile in the closet Chef and Chris have a heart to heart and Chris realizes he’s been too harsh this season and they escape and try to save the kids

•The kids saved themselves though and Dakota is even more bad and she’s having her little power struggle childhood trauma moment, and Sam to the rescue, he convinces her she’s enough even if she isn’t famous and she feels empathetic and surrenders. They’re both taken to the Playa Des Losers together.

•Meanwhile, Anne Maria is facing elimination because Lightning found the immunity idol instead of Scott, he thinks Jo is his friend right now, and Jo isn’t voting for herself obviously. Mike wants to tell Anne Maria that he’s not Vito before she leaves, and he tells her about his DID, and she feels lied to and kind of cries about it. Scott is feeling conflicted because he’s never wanted friends before but he thinks Mike is cool now, and he finds out about Mike’s DID because he overhears Anne Maria crying, and he decides he’s gotta get rid of Mike like right now because he can’t deal with emotions rn.

•Jo and Anne Maria have a heart to heart that is subtly gay but still 2010 children’s TV, and Jo says she’s going to miss her and Anne Maria decides she doesn’t need Vito in order to feel loved and not lonely. Cameron and Zoey also see her off and Zoey apologizes for being so jealous, Mike can’t face her but she like pats him on the back, Scott gives her some like ominous warning about Mike. Lightning is in a similar situation to Scott with Cameron and this is where the misunderstood villain arc begins.

•Also, I’ve decided: Jo is going to be still Jo but like more empathetic, so Up Up and Away is a little better and she and Cameron are gonna be genuinely friends but she gets voted out by Lightning and Scott while the other votes are split. She’s gonna give Cameron a morale boost when she leaves because he’s going to try and vote for himself in this one since everything is too much for him rn

•Also Lightning is still Lightning he just seems more sad earlier and we get more hints of his father earlier like the reason he’s so aggressive now is because being with Cameron reminds him of friends his father made him drop as a kid, it’s like amity blight-esque

•Also Scott still sucks but he has a reason now mainly so All Stars Scott makes more sense

•Also Scott’s gonna get fucked up by Fang still but like, it’s not gonna be trauma chair bad and no one is gonna laugh at him, it’s just gonna be like the extreme karma that fully makes him change. It’s less mean spirited

•Overall I’m just giving the show the Steven Universe treatment sorry lmao

#alex’s td rambles #the Dakota episode au #i guess #maybe I’ll write this full episode but idk #also I’m a sucker for jomaria moments I’ll write an essay on them soon #I’ve been thinking of Anne Maria’s character for days and how jo could compliment her #‘some characters are just bad alex they don’t need redemption or reasons or grayness’ beep boop shut up I like it that way #long post #also cameron telling Scott doesn’t happen bc it doesn’t add anything #like no drama between cam and Mike

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glitteryglitter · 4 years ago

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I like me better

𝙰𝙽: I'm sorry if some wording is a little weird. I woke up at 2:30 am, had a cup of coffee and then accidentally had some Tylenol that had a sedative in it so I was bit loopy while writing this (oops)

I listened to this song way too many times while writing this so I thought I might include it (I also used it as a title just because)

Lastly, I made a few things a bit different for the story, also Mags and Finnick are not in the imagine (sorry) They're amazing, but it just made everything flow better.

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Mentions of violence

𝙿𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: Johanna x District 4! reader

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 1,268

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

"Are you okay?" Johanna's uncharacteristically soft voice cut through the silence.

"Yeah, I'm just really nervous about tomorrow."

Y/n and Johanna were draped across a chaise lounge in Y/n's district apartment.

It was, after all, the night before the Quarter Quell and they were both quite stressed.

They had good reason, but their odds were considerably better than others.

They were a rather well-known couple, and the capitol absolutely adored them.

Johanna completely despised the fact that they had become entertainment to the capitol residents, but Y/n had accepted that it would give them some help.

As the two stewed over their problem, Y/n decided to break the silence.

"Whatever happens-I just want to say I care about you I'll never caring about you, even if one of us-"

y/n sniffed as a tear rolled down their cheek.

"You know-"

Johanna wrapped her arms around Y/n stiffly, still not used to the sheer amount of hugs they required.

"Hey-hey, it's going to be okay. "

Y/n looked into her sparkling brown eyes

"You think so?"

Johanna pursed her lips.

"Look, I'm not good with these speeches where people confess their love and everything, and I can't promise anything, but I think that our odds are good and we at least have a chance. We do have allies."

Y/n smiled and dragged a rather sleepy Johanna to their bed

The two flopped down exhaustedly as Johanna pulled y/n close.

"I'm so lucky to have someone like you. You're honest, and brave, and really sweet, even if you don't always show it"

"I love you Y/n.

Y/n gasped quietly as a huge smile spread across their face.

Those three words meant so much and had come so unexpectedly, yet somehow, they felt perfect at that moment.

"I love you too, I always have, always will. No matter what"

With that Y/n pulled their girlfriend in for a kiss.

They hadn't realized just how exhausted they were until now.

Y/n tried to stifle a yawn.

"Goodnight."

Johanna shifted closer to her girlfriend.

"Night" she mumbled.

With that, the two closed their eyes and, with some difficulty, drifted off to sleep, each calmed by the other's presence.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Y/n was on their pedestal, it was the day, the moment, basically everything they'd been dreading for days.

They took a look around at the other tributes, all of which seemed to be masking their feelings of impending chaos in different ways.

There were some who appeared to be unbothered, some looked irritated, some looked positively petrified, and then there was Johanna.

She was one of the people that looked irritated, except Y/n noticed something different about her.

Unlike Gloss who had a hard, surly look on his face, Johanna's expression was different.

Yes, her signature scowl was there, but Y/n noticed something was beneath it.

They knew their girlfriend too well, they knew Johanna felt more than anger at this time.

Could it be fear? Worry? sadness? Y/n couldn't tell, but they knew it was something significant.

The countdown started and y/n sighed.

This was the second time they'd been through this and it wasn't any better than the previous.

Being a district 4 career, they did have certain talents. One of which was, of course, swimming.

They weren't so sure about Johanna though. Y/n shook their head, they needed to get out of their head and stop panicking so much.

It was silly, it made sense that they were panicked but it wouldn't help anything, would it?

they had allies. They were a career. Why were they so worried?

Y/n knew why.

They only hoped that they would find a way out of this together.

It was next to impossible, but one thing they'd learned from her last Hunger Games was the fact that you needed a little bit of hope.

๑*˚🍓˚*๑

Wiress, Beetee, Katniss, and Peeta had assembled in a small clearing.

Y/n took a deep breath of the humid air, no one in the alliance had died yet.

That was a good sign.

Y/n looked at their girlfriend adoringly as Johanna flashed them a small smile.

She and Y/n had both successfully made it through the start of the Quarter Quell and at this point, things felt like they were looking up, just a bit.

Johanna allowed the small twinge of hope she had to grow slightly.

"You two are so sweet together! I never really thought of you as the romantic type." Peeta exclaimed.

Johanna was thrown out of her small reverie as she realized Peeta had been talking about her.

He dashed a few feet away as Johanna reached for her axe

She glared at him.

However, Y/n saw a hint of a smile creeping across her face.

It truly was adorable.

"Shut up. I'm not." Johanna snapped.

"Suuuuure that's precisely what all the other couples say. Then, you find them making flower crowns for each other and nearly getting themselves killed in the name of true love" Beetee chimed in, his eyes nervously flicking to Johanna's axe which at this point was being tossed from hand to hand.

"Leave her alone," Y/n said, trying to hide their own smile.

Things almost felt normal.

Well, as normal as talking to people from other districts and being away from home could feel.

Katniss did have a slightly uneasy look on her face though.

She'd been staring at Y/n rather curiously for quite some time.

She seemed... almost wistful?

"Katniss I don't know what's bothering you, but please say it. You've been looking at me and it's really strange, probably for both of us. You trust me right?"

Katniss shook her head.

"It's not that, I do trust you-mostly at least-but still, this isn't about me. I just want to know...What is it like for you and Johanna? You're the only other couple in this mess and I just want to know how you feel."

"Of course. It's terrible being stuck here with her, there's not a moment where I'm not worried about if she'll be okay. I know she's perfectly capable and everything, but still- I can't stop thinking about what would happen if she got hurt or-you know.." Y/n trailed off quietly.

Katniss nodded. "I know the feeling. Thank you. For everything. For joining our alliance, for getting Johanna to join..."

Katniss gestured to Johanna who at the moment appeared to be sizing up Beetee and Peeta, her hand uncomfortably close to her axe.

"I'll be right back,'' Y/n whispered.

Today wouldn't be the day either of them would be decapitated if they could help it

Y/n dashed to her side. "Jo! Let's strategize! That way, we can make sure we all stay safe." Also, maybe it would be best if you didn't scare off Beetee. He might be of service."

Johanna slipped an arm around Y/n's shoulders.

"Okay, I won't," she sighed softly.

"Watch your back, Beetee! Accuse me of making a flower crown again and the arena will be the least of your worries! This is for you too, Peeta! I will break you like a stale breadstick!" She yelled.

Y/n tried to mask their giggles but failed miserably.

Their bright laughter rang through the forest.

"What are you laughing at?"

Johanna tried to keep her steely expression in place but in the end, it too dissolved and the two were both positively wheezing.

It was a terrible situation to be in, but this moment made it slightly more bearable.

The group's situation wasn't ideal, but neither was anyone else's in the arena.

Things could have been much worse, she decided.

Johanna only hoped it would stay that way.

๑*˚🍓 ˚*๑

#johanna mason x reader #johanna mason #The Hunger Games #THG #the hunger games imagine #Johanna Mason Imagine

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fantasmalresplendent · 4 years ago

Text

Dean died at the ripe old age of 85.

In his lucid moments during the days leading up to his passing, in which Dean was just as sharp and as bright as he was fifty years ago, he remarked that people must think he’d robbed the cradle with a “hot piece” such as Castiel hanging around him.

“You don’t mind that I’m a wrinkly, senile, crotchety old bastard?” Dean had asked, more than once, but he had always said it with a smile. And Castiel would smile back, replying with the same answer the answer many times, in many ways:

“You’re not senile.”

“Old, but not a bastard.”

“I thought I was the crotchety one.”

“I don’t mind.”

Then Dean would smile, and it would light up the room, and Castiel would wonder again how he came to deserve the focus, let alone the affection, of such a man.

“It’s not about deserving, Cas,” Dean had said, half-whispered in the middle of the night a few short months after they had begun to share the bed they laid in. “It’s… fuck, well I don’t know what it’s about. But people don’t get what they deserve, not most of the time.”

Castiel frowned, furrowing his brows. “They should,” he grumbled.

“Well if people got what they deserved, they’d… I don’t know, Sam would’ve actually become a lawyer, stayed in school. Jo, Ellen, Bobby, they’d all still be here. I’d get mauled by a werewolf or something, go out with a bang, and Baby,” Dean said sternly, as though chastising the universe itself for such an injustice, “Would never get so much as a scratch on her.”

“You think that’s what you deserve?” Castiel’s voice was soft, not wanting to disturb the still of the night, but steely as he considered even the possibility of Dean’s violent end.

Dean registered that, swallowing, “I don’t know. I guess I just never thought I’d even make it this far. Hunters have the shortest lifespans of any human subspecies,” Dean cracked a smile, but his heart wasn’t in the joke. Castiel knew Dean was doing the math in his head. He knew Dean was mentally recalling how long it had been since Bobby left for heaven. Tallying up the number of people who were gone because of self-sacrifice, mistakes, pure dumb luck. Counting exactly how many years he had outlived his own mother.

Castiel had wrapped his arms around Dean then, embracing him, surrounding him, and they curled into each other completely. Burying himself in Castiel’s neck, Dean had never felt so close to him, and yet so far away. “You don’t have to follow the same patterns if you don’t want to, Dean,” Castiel stated, as if it were that easy. “Do you want to?”

“Want to what?”

“Get mauled by a werewolf?”

Dean sniffed in laughter, and that was answer enough.

Castiel found himself stroking Dean’s hair, an action he felt suited him. He thought for a moment in the stillness and in the space between their breaths. “Maybe it’s idealistic of me, but I still think people should get what they deserve. Even- no, especially you.”

Dean took his time answering, opening his mouth several times before actually saying, “Sometimes I don’t think I know what I deserve.”

“I guess we’ll just have to figure that out together then. We have time,” Castiel kissed Dean’s forehead and he sighed at the touch. “We have plenty of time. Heaven will wait for you, no matter how long.”

Dean looked up at him then with a pout, “You sound pretty confident in that statement for a dude who hasn’t shown up to heavenly chorus practice in a few years.”

Castiel smiled, “I’d rather be here with you. Always have.”

The man blushed. “Well, if I go… I mean, wherever I go… Where will you end up?”

“I could go with you.”

“Where?”

Castiel closed the distance between them fully, thumbing across Dean’s cheek as they kissed. “Anywhere. If you want me there, I will be there, whether it’s here or heaven. I’ll be there.”

“For how long?”

“For however long you want me to be.”

Dean kissed back, his fingers tangling in Castiel’s hair. “Yeah. Okay.”

Sam went not long after Dean. It wasn’t a surprise; it was his time as well. His children were grown, his grandchildren almost grown, Castiel knew they’d miss him but that they’d be all right. And they knew to call on “Uncle Cas” if they weren’t, even the little ones who didn’t understand exactly how they were related, or why Great Uncle Dean's husband was only about as old as their parents.

“I mean I love the little gremlins,” Dean had said, cracking open a beer after a long few days of babysitting Sam and Eileen's girls while the expecting parents were in the hospital. He was exhausted, they both were, but beaming from meeting the newest member of the Winchester clan: a healthy baby boy named Robert. “But have you seen Sam’s house? Goddamn mess in there.”

“You… don’t want to have some of your own?” Castiel had asked carefully, taking the beer Dean held out for him.

“You’re making them sound like trading cards. I don’t know, I- I guess I never thought too hard about it.” Castiel could tell this was a lie by the way Dean didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Wouldn’t know what to do with a kid if I had one.”

“Do you think you’d be a good father?”

Castiel had met John Winchester, in Hell. Well, he hadn’t exactly met him. He had really only passed by John’s cell, stole a glance at the infamous hunter on his way to retrieve Dean’s soul. He’d never told Dean what he saw, they were not close enough at the time. He wasn’t sure if Dean would even want to know. Castiel had almost spoken about it many times, but whenever Dean talked about John, “Dad,” a look crossed over his face, sometimes for only a second. A furrowing of brows, a tight smile, a quick transition to happier subjects.

The same look crossed over Dean’s face as soon as Castiel had asked the question.

“Wow. Um, loaded question there, Cas.”

He waited for Dean to meet his eyes before continuing, “I think you would be.”

“Do- wait,” Dean shook his head, trying to understand where Castiel was going with all of this, “Do you want kids?”

“I want you to live a normal life, Dean. I want to be able to give you what you want.”

“Okay, lots of stuff to unpack here. First of all, a normal life isn’t and never was an option,” Dean leaned back against the counter, “I think we can agree on that. Second of all, you didn’t answer my question.”

“...And third of all?” Castiel prompted.

“No, second of all first. Do you want kids?”

Castiel sighed, taking a swig of his beer, considering his words. “I’m an angel, Dean-”

“Is that so!” Dean raised his eyebrows, then squinted as if in deep thought, “Weird, somehow I never noticed.”

That deserved a well-placed eyeroll, but Castiel still had a point to make. “We don’t- I’m just trying to…” he set his beer down. “I don’t know. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that I would love and care for a child, if it were ours. If we decided that was something we wanted, I would be so happy to raise them, with you. I’d be terrified,” Castiel admitted, “At the enormous and important responsibility, but I would love doing it, if… if it was with you. I just want you to know that, I guess,” Castiel shrugged, “I don’t want you to think it’s not an option for us, if you want it to be.”

“Okay…” Dean was thinking, swirling the beer around his glass. He pointed the mouth at Castiel, “You’re still avoiding my question,” Castiel really rolled his eyes this time, “But I don’t really think it’s for me, all that white picket fence stuff. If you really wanted a kid, I would definitely hit the library and read all those, I don’t know, fucking parenting guides, and take the Mommy and Me classes, whatever. And I think you’d be a good father, better than me, I’d just let them eat gummy worms and shoot slingshots.”

“Children love gummy worms. They listen and will behave better when offered gummy worms,” Castiel knew this for a fact from very recent personal experience, “I don’t see how gummy worms could pose an issue. Slingshots, however-”

“Okay so maybe I’m overestimating your abilities a little,” Dean held up a hand, “But still, I… I like this,” he gestured to the space between them and around them, “I like us. I like waking up to a clean kitchen and sleeping in on weekends. I like not having to ask more than one person whether or not I can take a drive by myself or crank my music really loud at midnight. And I fucking hate Paw Patrol.”

Castiel smiled.

“Sam and Eileen always need babysitters. That’s good enough for me right now.”

“You’ll tell me though, if this is something you really want,” Castiel insisted, “If you think about it and decide something else.”

“Sure.”

“Promise.”

“Okay, fine, I promise,” Dean took a step forward and leaned in for a kiss then. Castiel could taste the beer on Dean’s tongue and sighed. Dean smiled against Castiel’s lips, lowering his voice to a comical level, “We could, uh, you know, try and make some babies,” Dean waggled his eyebrows and Castiel pushed Dean’s laughing face away, but grabbed his hand, turning towards their room.

They hadn’t spoken about it again, not seriously anyway. They got a dog. Dean opened a vintage car garage. Castiel learned how to bake. They took long road trips to the beaches in California, wandered through roadside attractions like Carhenge in Nebraska and Cadillac Ranch in Texas. They bought decidedly way too much merchandise at Oklahoma’s National Cowboy & Western Heritage Museum. And maybe they killed the occasional vampire, the wayward poltergeist, but the occasions became less and less. There were younger, more spry hunters on the road now, always welcome at the bunker to look through their library or ask advice on a particularly troublesome spirit. Sam even coerced Dean into holding what became a yearly “conference,” “What are we, a tech startup?” for the next generation of hunters to learn from the legendary brothers.

So maybe they spent more time at home than on the road, but home suited them. Routine suited them like Castiel never could have predicted it would. It wasn’t a white picket fence, but it wasn’t a lonely highway either. Dean would joke about how “boring” they’d become, but Castiel reveled in the repetition. The three hundredth time Dean brought Castiel coffee in bed was just as lovely as the third. The five hundredth time Castiel cooked dinner passed without fanfare, though Dean hugging him from behind, chin hooked over Castiel’s shoulder as he whisked, felt like fanfare enough. The one thousandth kiss they shared was in their bed, lazily breathing each other in as the first beams of sunlight shone through the window after a week of straight rain. Home, a thing he and Dean had never known in their youth, held the majority of their most precious, most banal memories. But still, Castiel always looked forward to those moments speeding down a desert highway when Dean would reach for his hand, turn his head to meet Castiel’s eyes, and smile.

Time took its time with them.

It seemed the opposite with Sam’s children, who grew up faster than Castiel could keep track of. And as they grew from waddling toddlers to full-fledged human beings, Castiel was fascinated, enamored, but Dean was simply proud. He attended their tournaments, their decathlons. He went to their graduations, weddings, barbecues, and Castiel went with him. They took the kids to concerts and movies, parks and shooting ranges, and Castiel never got tired of the smile on Dean’s face when they threw their small arms around Dean’s neck and called him their “Cool Uncle.” “Hear that, Cas? That means you’re the No Fun Uncle. The No-Funcle.”

And as the crowned Cool Uncle, he teased Sam mercilessly about his minivan and his “#1 Dad” mugs, but Castiel knew how proud Dean was of him too. How glad he was that Sam got the future he wanted, and how grateful he was that that future included him.

The brothers still fought. They still bickered, pranked, and glowered. Sam complained that Dean let his kids use power tools too young when they visited, and Dean complained that Sam’s kids were too old to have never heard “Stairway to Heaven.” The usual, the routine, many times over. But they never lied to each other, at least not about the important things, not anymore. And Castiel was welcome in Sam and Eileen’s house and lives, an honor he felt he didn’t deserve, but as Dean said, maybe it wasn’t about deserving.

It was Eileen who noticed Castiel first as he entered the hospital room the day he'd been informed that Sam Winchester was finally coming home. He didn't have to tell Eileen; she saw it on Castiel's face. They’d already spoken, he’d prepared her for the eventuality a few days prior. Eileen smiled, looking back at her husband, teasing him lightly, but Castiel knew she was holding back on her usual snark because Sam looked, well, tired. Turning away from Sam, Eileen signed, “Are you here for him?”

Castiel shook his head. “No, but someone will be here soon.”

“You mean they haven’t given you reaper duty yet?” Sam joked from his horizontal position, speaking and signing with his usual quick wit, but not with his usual articulation. Castiel had seen him argue with Dean for fifty years like it was his job, he was accustomed to the precision with which Sam had always wielded his words. Not today.

“I don’t think I’d be very good at it,” Castiel stepped closer so that Sam wouldn’t have to crane his head, “I’m not very persuasive.”

“No kidding,” Sam shakily clasped Castiel’s hand and grinned. “I’m surprised Dean even went with you.”

“It took less persuading than you’d think.”

“How is he?” Eileen asked, but she was smiling, so she knew the answer.

“He’s good,” Castiel smiled back, “Getting what he deserves.”

Sam smirked, but his head sunk back into his pillow as if relieved. “And I bet he’s complaining about it non-stop. Asshole never knew how to take a vacation.”

“Neither do you,” Eileen levelled her husband with a fond look.

“We’ve taken vacations!”

“You always wanted to go somewhere exotic and then you’d just end up in the library. Remember Berlin?”

“They had… well I wasn’t going to find those editions in America, and-”

Sam and Eileen bickered for a bit, and Castiel did end up backing Eileen’s points more often than not, so eventually Sam recognized that he was outnumbered on this particular case.

Castiel bid his goodbyes just in time as the nurse entered the room to check Sam’s vitals. Her tone was cheerful, but Castiel could tell that she too knew what was coming.

“Well… I’ll see you soon, buddy, huh?” Sam smiled at Castiel as confidently as he could muster for Eileen’s sake, but Castiel knew behind those laugh lines Sam wasn’t so sure of himself. Castiel supposed that worry wasn’t to be unexpected from a chosen one of Hell, Lucifer's vessel, the boy Castiel had once called an “abomination.”

But Castiel smiled, giving Sam’s shoulder one last firm squeeze. “You will.”

When Dean died, at the ripe old age of 85, he knew what to expect.

He’d visited heaven before. Been there, done that, got the t-shirt. Not an exciting place, but exciting wasn’t necessarily good. Hell had been exciting, and he was in no hurry to return there. Purgatory had been exciting in a different way, years later he swore the stench still lingered on his skin. Sometimes, when he would lose himself in his “senior moments,” he thought he was back in that bloody in between. Or back in hell. Or had gone to heaven. “Times and places are difficult to navigate when your brain’s turning into gummy worms,” he told Cas once. He didn’t remember saying this a few hours later, but that didn’t make it any less true.

His brain was sure full of them gummy worms now as he clung to his body and to his life. He wasn’t completely sure where he was. Bobby’s? The bunker? His childhood home? Sammy had come to see him earlier, at least the kid had looked like Sammy… No, fuck, that was his grand-nephew, Cas had reminded him of that. Sam, his brother Sam, was in the next room. That's right, he’d told the asshole to give him some space, stop smothering him. He sort of wished he was here now though. And Cas, Cas was here, he knew that, but only because the angel was right in front of him. Cas, his friend, was holding Dean’s hand, talking about what their grand-nieces and nephews were doing in school. Dean could swear he already knew these things, but they still sounded new when Cas said them.

Dean looked over at him, and Cas was smiling.

He tried to speak, but the words stuck in his throat. Cas helped him swallow some cool water. Dean cleared his throat, “Bet you’ve been waiting for this for a while.”

Castiel cocked his head, the smile fading. Fifty some odd years and he still had that same confused look. “Waiting for what?”

“Me to beef it, finally. I know this hasn’t been easy, watching me… seeing me like…” Dean took a shallow breath. “No matter where I go next, at least I won’t be a senile senior citizen.”

“Dean,” Cas said, rubbing the back of Dean’s liver spot-covered hand, “Please listen to me very carefully.”

“Got my hearing aids in, go ahead,” Dean joked.

Cas smiled softly again. “It has been the greatest privilege of my life, my existence, to watch you grow old. I feel honored that you allowed me to experience that. Time’s different for me too,” Cas kissed Dean’s hand, “Space and time were never precious to me, not in the stretch of infinity. Not until you. Not until I was able to see you live your life and live it well.”

Tears welled in the corners of Dean’s eyes. He furiously tried to blink them away, but Cas was already there, dabbing carefully with a handkerchief. “I’m… I’m scared, Cas. I know I shouldn’t be, I’ve seen it all. I’ve beefed it a few times already. But maybe that’s why I’m scared? Because… I know what comes next. What could come next. And this is it, right? No more resets?”

Cas nodded.

Dean took a deep, shuddering breath. “If I don’t end up in heaven-”

“You will.”

“If I don’t, that’s fine, maybe it’s what I deserve, and that’s fair. But… will I see you again?”

“Dean,” Cas said sadly, but with his trademarked firmness, “You are going to paradise. And if for some reason, a completely incorrect and insane reason, you don’t? I dragged your soul out of the flames once, I will do it again. I would do it as many times as I needed to.”

Dean shook his head slightly, “Not fair.”

“It’s not about fair. It’s about the truth. Whether you believe it or not, ET goes home.”

Dean chuckled weakly. He was tired. He didn’t want to let go. He wanted to let go so badly.

He felt the bed move as Cas climbed under the covers with him. The angel curled around him, enveloping him. Dean could swear he felt the brush of feathers cradling him and pulling him closer, but he couldn’t muster the ability to reach for them, stroke them like he used to. “Sleep, Dean. I’ll be here when you wake up. Wherever, whenever here is. That’s where I’ll be. Wherever you go, I’ll go with you.”

“Swear?”

Castiel kissed his forehead. “I swear.”

Dean opened his eyes.

The phrase, “I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore” popped into his head, but he suspected, greatly, that he was, in fact, in Kansas. The blowing fields of wheat tipped him off to that.

No, wait. That wasn’t a field, it was a… sandy beach. It looked kind of like that beach he and Cas had stumbled upon driving down the Pacific Coast Highway, what was it called? The one where they’d had to hike down from the lookout point? The one where after they’d trudged back up the trail, they’d sat in the car and looked out over the sea as the sun set? The one where Castiel had smiled at him and the light glinted in his blue eyes and Dean had kissed Cas for the first time ever because he just couldn’t stop himself?

Muir Beach, Dean remembered, blushing at the memory.

But just as soon as he’d reached the end of that thought, it wasn’t the ocean anymore. It was a lake. On the lake was a pier. He’d seen that pier before, couldn’t remember exactly where though.

Then without warning, but without alarm, Dean saw someone standing on the end of the dock. A young man with light brown hair and a sweet smile Dean would recognize anywhere.

Jack waved, walking up casually, “Hey, Dean.”

Dean grinned and pulled him into a solid hug. “Jack. I missed you buddy, how have you been? Where, uh… are we in…”

Jack chucked, “I think you know where we are.”

“Yeah, but I don’t know know, this could… I could be dreaming or some shit, and I guess even in a dream you could say whatever I wanted you to say, so-”

“Dean,” Jack stopped him, “This is heaven. You are in heaven.”

A relieved but small smile spread over Dean’s face. “Cool…”

“I’m not usually here to meet people who pass on, but we weren’t going to miss your arrival.”

“We?”

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean turned around. There was Cas, beaming at him.

“Cas…” Dean reached to embrace him too, only now noticing that the hands that reached out were not as wrinkled as they’d been when he last saw them. He hugged Cas tightly, relieved more than he wanted to admit. “You’re here.”

“I’m here,” Cas’s hand went to Dean’s cheek, holding him in a kiss. They separated, foreheads resting against each other. Cas’s eyes twinkled, “We had an appointment.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean took a step back, seeing Jack grinning out of the corner of his eye. “Is, uh… is anyone else coming? Or is this the welcoming party?”

“They’re all waiting for you,” Cas put his hand down, and as he did, it was stopped mid-air, as if resting on something solid. Dean blinked, and there was Baby, new as the day she was made, parked on a long, long road that stretched far out of sight. “Any time you’re ready,” Cas tossed something in Dean’s direction, “we can go.”

Dean caught the keys on instinct, they jingled on the simple ring.

Any time you’re ready, we can go.

He twirled them around the end of his finger a couple times, a thought itching at his brain. Or a couple dozen thoughts.

Cas gave him a look, then turned to Jack, “Could you give us a moment?”

“Yeah, I’ll go get everything ready,” Jack blipped out.

“Get what ready?” Dean asked.

“Dean,” he turned around to face Cas whose brows were knit in worry, bright blue eyes narrowed, “Are you okay?” Dean realized he hadn’t seen Cas clearly for a few years, not since before the cataracts. He’d never gotten completely used to that piercing gaze.

Dean blinked. “Yeah, I… I just… I’m here. Really here.”

“Yes, Dean.”

“And… you’re here.”

Cas gave him that look like he was being patient on purpose, “Yes, Dean.”

“And… fuck,” Dean stood at sudden attention, “I left Sam down there, is he okay?”

Catching Dean's hands in his own, Cas rubbed comforting circles into Dean's skin. "Sam is fine. He was there when you left. That's why I was a little late, Eileen had only just gotten home and I didn't want to leave before she could be there beside him.

"Okay," Dean took a deep breath, concentrating on the physical contact, grounding himself in Cas’s movements, "Okay. I mean I know he's gonna be fine, he was always fine without me," Dean said, almost to himself.

"And you'll see him soon."

The abrupt return of Dean’s panicked look made Cas smile a little, shake his head, "Not that soon, Dean. Don't worry."

"Right. Of course, yeah,” Dean looked around, down the road, the back to his car, out past the waving grain that had returned inexplicably. “Well,” Dean flashed what he thought was a very convincing smile, letting Cas’s hands go as he tossed the keys once and caught them, heading towards the car, “Time to hit the road, huh?”

"Wait,” the suspicious squint was back as Cas caught Dean’s arm, “Something else is bothering you."

Dean turned around, and the ocean was back. The ocean he’d taken a trip to see, had selfishly insisted Cas come along for the ride for.

He sighed. "I just…” Dean ran a hand through his hair, “I don't know, I guess it just don't sit right that I’m… I'm gonna see Mom and Bobby and Jo and Charlie and… everyone. How am I going to look them in the face and not feel guilty that I got decades that they’ll never have? And what did I do with that time, sit on my ass? Judge local car shows? Go to freaking baseball games?"

Cas nodded slowly, simply listening. He then hopped up and sat on the hood of the Impala, shoes and all. Dean shot him an offended look.

“She’s a memory of a car, Dean,” Cas rolled his eyes, “She isn’t going to dent.” He patted the spot next to him.

Dean hesitated, but under Cas’s stare, relented. When he was settled, Castiel laced their fingers together.

“I’ve been trying to convince you for all the time I’ve known you that you’re worthy. That you deserved to be saved. That you deserved to rest.” Cas looked down at their entwined hands, “I don’t think I ever really succeeded.”

“Sorry,” Dean muttered.

“You don’t have to apologize. I know you’ve been doing a thankless job ever since you carried Sam out of your burning home. Shit, even before that,” Dean cocked his head, Cas hardly ever cursed, “you were always trying to be the hero for your mother. Some people are at fault for that,” Cas’s eyebrows furrowed briefly, “but it’s human nature to be hard on ourselves and praiseworthy of others. You, in your limited experience, could not possibly know all of the things that you’ve done that have made a difference. But we’re-”

Jack suddenly blipped into existence, giving Castiel two big thumbs up, then blipped out again.

Dean turned, looking from the space Jack had stood back to Cas then back again, “What-”

Cas shook his head with a smile, “I could never tell you exactly what you’ve meant to the world. But we had a, uh, few volunteers that wanted to show you.”

“Cas, could you quit monologuing for a second and-”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dean saw movement. The endless sea became endless plains which became endless trees, the landscape changing at a rapid rate.

Dean looked back to Cas in confusion, but he didn’t look alarmed. He gave Dean a timid smile, kissed him behind his ear, and whispered, “Just watch.”

Dean watched. For a moment, the scenery couldn’t seem to decide what it wanted to be. Then, it decided not to decide. Grains of sand took the form of towering trees, a picnic table, a bench. Green lake water formed the shape of a small boy, hunched over and scribbling on the table. Lastly the wheat twirled and spun and became an all-too-familiar-looking young man wearing a jacket too big for his frame, walking over to the bench and sitting down across from the kid.

Lucas. The name came to Dean from deep in his memory, he was that quiet kid who drew Dean pictures of the ghost in the lake. The grain animated Dean’s smile as he talked, the figure of Lucas showed Dean his sketches. Their forms dissolved as the scene changed and Dean's form was pulling Lucas out of the water, the sheriff having paid his due.

The figure of Dean left, but Lucas stayed and was joined by his mother, Dean remembered her too. They embraced, and the figure of Lucas grew, changed into a young man, a husband, a father. Soon a half dozen figures were standing there, waving to Dean, and then they disappeared, melting back into water. Lucas was the last to go as he was the first to arrive. He signed a phrase to Dean, and Dean knew the words: Thank you, Dean Winchester.

Then the sand reformed into a schoolgirl, the shapes in the green water plaguing her with images of mirrors and Bloody Marys until Dean stepped in front of her, holding a mirror of grain in front of the cruel, refracted specter. It dissolved, and Dean’s form bade goodbye, but the girl remained. She grew too just like the boy did, becoming a professor, graduating with honors, writing dozens of books, and changing dozens of lives. She smiled, and waved, and dissolved as well.

The shapeshifters appeared next, the sand in the form of Sam’s friend Zach, his sister Becky, and even Dean’s false shifter form, but the true form in the too-large jacket blew them all away, leaving Becky waving goodbye. She too welcomed a family that appeared by her side, and they all looked so happy and grateful to have each other.

Again and again the scenes changed. Green waters showed the cities he had passed through, the homes that were kept from destruction, entire communities that were healed. The water formed and reformed into smiling faces and waving hands. Some of the people, Dean had known on Earth. Many of the places, Dean had remembered driving through. Most of the people and places, however, were foreign to Dean. He lost count of the number of strangers who appeared, the cities he’d never been to. He struggled to keep track as they cycled faster and faster, as numerous as the grains of sand and droplets of water they were made of. It seemed that a whole generation of people, all over the world, would-be victims of an apocalypse they never even knew was happening, knew him. Through words and cheers and song, they retold the tales of Dean and Sam Winchester, the tales they had only learned once they had passed on.

Throughout all of this, Cas pressed his shoulder to Dean’s, his presence grounding but not distracting. Dean’s grip on Cas’s hand grew tighter and tighter. Cas did not let go.

Eventually, the images and figures departed. The sand blew away, the waters swirled and dispersed, and the landscape made its final decision. Only a simple field of golden wheat remained, waving and rippling in the wind.

Only in that newfound silence did Dean notice he was crying. He shook his head, wiping the tears away furiously.

“Dean,” Cas whispered, and Dean turned to face him, vision blurred, Cas looking at him pleadingly. “You sacrificed so much for so many for so long. You don’t have to be strong right now. You don’t have to be strong ever again if you don’t want to. You have done enough.”

Castiel wiped an errant tear from Dean’s cheek, holding his face between his hands firmly, tenderly.

“You are, and always were, enough. Your job is done. Let. Go.”

Dean did.

Cas silently pulled Dean into his shoulder as he sobbed. Dean didn’t even know why he was crying, didn’t know what for. Maybe he was happy. Maybe he was grieving. Maybe he just felt… relief. He wasn’t sure the last time he felt such relief. He wasn’t sure he ever had truly felt it.

After some time, longer than he’d like to admit, Dean sniffed, wiped one hand over his face, and raised his head. Cas was waiting for him, looking at him with care. With love.

“I, uh… I don’t gotta sign any autographs, do I?”

Cas smiled, and pulled Dean in for a kiss. They stayed like that for a bit on the hood of the car, feeling the breeze, breathing in the fresh air. Dean thought he could hear music coming from somewhere, realizing that it was the car’s radio playing softly from the cab. He knew that any time he wanted, he could hop down from the hood of his car, slide into the driver’s seat with the love of his life on the passenger’s side, and carry on his wayward way. Down the road, through the endless fields, towards the ones he had loved and lost. But not yet, not quite yet, because he had time. Maybe in the end, time was all he had ever really wanted, even if he could never allow himself to ask for it.

Infinity stretched out in front of him like the fields of grain. It wasn’t an exciting infinity, but it was his. It was a long road, a family that waited for him, a shoulder to lean on. It was, at long last, a place to lay his weary head to rest.

#destiel #deancas #dean winchester #castiel #destiel fix it #destiel fic #like fields of grain #this is on ao3 but i know if I post an external link tumblr will nuke it so #if you can't tell #I'm taking canon hostage and forcing it to pay reparations

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love-hatred-stuff · 4 years ago

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Just a dream } Lim Sejun [victon]

genre: yandere, mild smut, fluff (,angst?)

warning(s): mentions of killing & stalking, suggestive!, mentions of other idols (subin&byungchan)

word count: about 3.3k

note: If u feel uncomfortable with any of the warnings above, feel free to skip! I will probably do more parts :)

I'm not that good in writing smut but I wanted it to be not too dirty, like there's sexual tension but everything is on a comfortable level

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Third person's POV

at school

Lim Sejun was your best friend, along with his stepbrother Jung Subin. You actually met Sejun through Subin.

At first only Subin was your classmate since 5th grade and you too eventually became really close. And later on, about two years, Sejun joined you because he moved here, when his Mom wanted to marry your other friends Dad.

You never never had romantic feelings for Subin, you just loved him as a friend.

But his stepbrother was something different. It wasn't like you had a crush on him, he just made you so nervous all the time.

You didn't show it, but inside you always slightly get butterflies everytime he stares at you or uses his deep voice to convince you to something.

Not to mention his looks, but he could do many things that made him get most girls attention. Though he never cared about girls except for you.

He was a rather cold person, kept most things to himself and didn't laugh very often. But when he did, it always made you happy aswell.

It was mostly you that made him giggle or smile but you never questioned it.

You were just grateful to have them as your friends. Even though the brothers fought like literally almost all the time.

But what you noticed is that Sejun was very protective over you. What you didn't know was caused by the obsession he had over you.

In the Beginning it was only a little crushing, adoring you secretly. This soon turned into serious, strong feelings, and desire that he kept inside and eventually real love.

Of course you obviously didn't know about his "little" possession, but you were everything to him and nothing would steal you from him.

Anyone that touched you inappropriately, wasn't blessed to live a long life. And he made sure of that. The killing wasn't a big deal for him, as long as you were safe it didn't matter.

School was long over, but you and Sejun were still sitting in the library to do homework and explain math to Subin when he had problems, which was like constantly.

"God, Subin! I explained this to you like a hundred times. It's Sejun's turn now, he is even smarter than me." You groaned at your friends intolerance.

You desperately looked at the dark haired boy, who sat on a chair and concentratedly wrote something on a paper.

When he was just giving you a look with a frown you sighed.

"Help your brother for gods sake! I can't do this anymore. I finished anyways, I could just go if I wanted to." You complained in a whiny manner.

Sejun still looked at you and than shortly at Subin. He shook his head.

"I'm not helping him. He has to learn himself. And he's just my stepbrother. Not my problem." He shrugged and turned to his paper.

Subin just looked absolutely cluelessly at the many numbers and even letters.

"Please Sejun! Your Mom told me to help him. She will think I'm dumb as well!" You continued, to stubborn to give up first.

"Hey!" Subin faked a hurtful look, laying his hand on his heart.

"Sorry, Binnie. But I won't explain this to you again." You touched his shoulder, smiling exclusively.

Now Sejun also noticed the contact between you too and made a noise to seperate you again and get your attention.

Your head turned to him, hoping he changed his mind.

But he just saw one thing at this moment; your thigh that was exposed because of the skirt that had slipped up 'til the beginning of you lace slip.

His eyes fixated on your beautiful legs and his mind went wild automatically. He was aroused immediately, imagining he was the one who could take it off of you.

You didn't bother to look down, where he was looking. You were just thinking he zoned out for a moment at waved your hand on front of his iced eyes.

"Sejun? Are you okay?" You wondered.

When he came back to reality he noticed how tight his jeans felt so suddenly. But managed to look up at you finally.

"Huh? Oh, yes. I will only explain this once to him, and I wanna get a treat." He wanted to compromise.

You waited a moment to process and decide if you wanted to compromise.

"Okay. What do want as your treat?" You asked innocently.

Sejun thought. How could he indirectly say that he wanted to be alone with you?

"You will go with me studiying tomorrow, after school." He grinned, secretly so excited to have you to himself for some hours.

Your eyes widened. Another study session?

"Fine, but why so obsessed with studiying? School's not everything, Junnie." You told him.

He stayed silent. If you knew what I want to do to you right now, Y/N. He thought, very aware of his bulge, growing even harder. But he couldn't do anything about it, he had to hide under the table until it would hopefully disappear.

After about half an hour, he had made everything clear for Subin. Well, supposedly. And the three of you went home.

Subin couldn't hold a moan back as he touched his boner through his black jeans. He hadn't been able to hold back the dirty thoughts of you telling him that you wanted him as much as he did. And now that he was finally home, he could release some of his inholded sexual sounds. He rarely listened to anyone but gladly would accept you as his domme.

He just loved you so much, of course he was craving for your touch. You were his only weakness at this point.

•••

the next day

You could walk to school because your house wasn't that far away. You didn't know that Sejun was always behind you, to make sure you came home safe and to enjoy your pretty features a little longer.

When you arrived and waited for you two only friends and greeted Subin happily with hug and a minute later Sejun with a sweet "Hey." Because you knew he didn't really enjoy skinship.

He greeted back politely. And thought about how pretty you looked again, although he saw you everyday in the same school uniform.

He secretly hated that the girls had to wear skirts in school. So he gave every boy who dared to look at you a second too long a warning glare to fuck off. And if they wouldn't hear, he would made sure they would never look at you again.

It was normal for him, he would keep you forever. And no one would destroy his plan.

School had ended fast and you bid your goodbyes to Subin and went to the library.

You sat down next to each other and your knees would touch every now and then, making Sejun wanting to already moan your name out loud, by just this simple touch.

One hour had passed and you slowly got bored, as you were just too done to concentrate on school stuff any longer.

"Sejun~" You whined, tucking on his blazer.

Holy fuck. He thought. I want you to whine my name like this again.

He tried to not look much affected and hummed as a response to you.

"I'm bored. I don't wanna study anymore. Let's just do something different, yes?" You tried to convince him with puppy eyes.

"What can we do?" He asked quietly, unsure if he would maybe be alowed to touch you a little.

"Kiss?" You said, leaning forward.

It wasn't really your intention but he could see some of your cleavage in this position. He told himself to keep control.

You laughed sweetly. He was so cute when he blushed.

You were just joking. But didn't know he was actually craving for the touch of your lips, just once. Once would be enough and he would be the luckiest man alive.

Now you frowned, he still wasn't looking away from your lips.

"Sejun, I was just jo-" You couldn't finish.

His hands snaked around your waist to sit you on his lap in a fast motion, disrupting you.

Him touching you in this way, affected you more than you wanted to admit.

"What are you doing?" You whispered.

Your butt sat on his thighs, your feet touched the ground. And your faces weren't that far away from each other either.

"I thought you were bored." His raspy voice made you feel the familiar butterflies in your stomach.

"Yeah, but what do want now?" You still whispered, so exited for his next move.

He grabbed your hips with more force, to shove you even further to his face.

A groan escaped his throat at the sudden friction he felt of your core grinding on his.

"You don't wanna know what I want to do to you Y/N."

He let his finger slide over your lower lip.

Why was he so changed all out of the blue?

He had waited for years to feel you right there where you sat on in this moment.

"Do you want me to stay still or move?" You asked as you were ready to risk it all.

You were feeling so out of this world, like someone would have drugged you. But you liked it, yeah, you enjoyed it.

"It's your choice, kitten. But be aware that if you cross a certain line I won't be able told back and take you right here, right now." He warned you in a husky voice, while breathing in all of your body right in his hands.

You let out a whiny moan at his dirty talking. You were kinda ready to get to his limits.

"It's okay, just tell me when I have to stop." You breathed out, against his neck.

As he felt your hot breath hit his exposed skin and at the same time, your hips moving into his he fekt like in heaven.

"Y/N~ah." He moaned out and threw his head back.

He felt like he would come right on the spot.

Between your movements you also let out hitched breaths at the immense pleasure your where giving and receiving, although you both still where having all your clothes on. But you forgot about that long ago.

Your bodys where still rocking together as he was watching all of your little expressions that showed on your face.

Though, at some point when you begin to settle kisses on his neck, jaw and cheeks, he couldn't hold himself back any longer and wanted to warn you again so it wouldn't escalate.

"Y/N, Y/N-ah, stop, it's too much!" He almost cried out for you.

You obeyed and stopped, panting a little.

"It's okay." You stroke his cheek. "We can continue this another time, Junnie." You promised.

His eyes flashed with exitement, as he struggled to come down from this so unreal seeming experience with you.

"I- I will just finish this work sheet. I have to calm down." Sejun told me as he got his ability to talk back.

He never thought, he would be able to find the confidence and touch you like this.

And you even agreed!

It was like a dream.

•••

Well, maybe it really was.

Sejun's POV

"Junnie, wake up!" Y/N shook me gently.

I was suddenly torned from my deep sleep. I breathed out and groaned.

I had dreamed everything?!

I felt so disappointed. I wished it would have happened in reality, it was the most pleasureable thing I had ever experienced in my life.

And it came out as just another wet dream of mine.

At this moment I told myself to be more confident and don't behave like a creep that hated skinship.

I had to be more cool with it, orherwise I would never get what I was craving for desperately.

"Are you okay, Sejun-ah?" She looked at me a bit worried as I still wasn't reacting at all.

But her voice finally brought me back to reality.

"No Y/N, I'm not okay." I answered.

"What is it?" She wondered.

I struggled to come up with an excuse, so I decided to be honest with her.

"You and me, we were here in the library and-"

"Oh, that? You weren't dreaming, Junnie. It happened."

I widened my eyes. It wasn't a dream? I blushed.

"But why did I fell asleep then?" I wanted to know, since it all didn't really made sense.

"You wanted to finish your paper to calm down. Well, it worked, you fell asleep." She explained

Suddenly I remembered. I had never dreamed. It had happened in real life.

Maybe I should consider sleeping more instead of watching her. I thought to myself, it was unacceptable to fall asleep during spending time with her.

•••

Third person's POV

You were sitting in the cafeteria of your Highschool, talking to your two guy friends.

It was a day like every other and everything was normal, except for Sejun's behaviour.

He was getting more confident in touching you but immediately blushed when he noticed that you were looking at him with a concerned face.

It was not like you lost interest or anything, you were still reacting to his teasing as intense as before. But you didn't thought he would want the two of you to keep doing these things.

Everything began two days ago in the library. He was getting more and more crazy for you each second.

Right in the moment he was secretly watching you talking to his stepbrother.

You were pure beauty in his eyes and he couldn't stop looking at your soft features and feminine body.

How you used your whole body while demonstrating something to Subin was something Sejun found absolutely adorable.

Every now and then you also glanced at him so he had to act like he wouldn't been staring at you the whole break long and mostly just nodded when you asked for his opinion or just wanted to include him in the conversation.

Sejun almost forgot to eat while being so busy admiring you.

When the bell rang for third period all the students stood up and he noticed that he wasn't the only one who didn't eat most of his food.

"Y/N you only ate your salad." Sejun walked next to you and pointed at your still full tablet with his finger.

You both were walking the same direction to put your tablets away and turn to your class after.

"Oh yeah, I'm not that hungry." You tried to explain.

But the actual reason was something else. You couldn't ignore Sejun's attentive look on you the whole time. You tried your best to ignore this weird feeling in you stomach but it was difficult when you knew that you had to endure that until you would be home.

"But you need to eat, to have enough energy for class." He pointed out while you made your way to the classroom.

Even if all his actions were meant to be innocent without any dirty intentions, it was hard for you to forget how you were sitting directly on his hard boner and could hear these pornografic sounds coming out of his mouth.

You liked how he had reacted to you in some way. Because no one ever had made you feel so wanted like he did that evening.

And you really gave your best to delete it from your memory but you just couldn't when you saw him every single day and felt how tensed he sometimes was. It reminded you of the Sejun that had called you Kitten.

You noticed you hadn't answered him yet and snapped out of your wild thoughts.

"Yes, I know but I have enough energy left. I promise, Junnie." You assured as you two arrived at the right room.

He just gave you a worried look and settled down on his seat like you did.

The three of you weren't directly seated next to each other but close, so the boys could still have an eye on you.

The teacher came in as well and the lesson began soon after.

Byungchan was sitting next to you since a few days, but you have no problem with that because he's very nice. Sometimes he would try to flirt with you and you would just act like you wouldn't know what he was doing.

He was also very handsome and popular at your school, though that hadn't had any affect on you. You just cared about the work you had to do together, nothing else.

Although... you do blushed when he made you a compliment, simply because you found it charming and sweet of him to care about how you looked.

What you didn't know was that Sejun was on the verge of killing him every single day since he sits next to you.

He even asked himself how to quickly and inconspicuously as possible have this done. So he would get rid of him finally.

He was so angry inside but told himself to keep his control awhile longer. You shouldn't suffer under his death too much so Sejun wanted to wait a little longer and threathen Byungchan first, to better stop flirting with you or else he had to be killed.

After a while the class was dismissed and for you, school had ended already. You completely had missed the time and were happy to be able to leave the school building already.

You packed your stuff and didn't even notice that Sejun was standing in front of you.

While he waited he stared down at you until he finally spoke up.

"Hey, Y/N. Do want to go eat ice-cream and hang out a bit maybe?" He asked as he restlessly scratched his neck.

You looked up, surprised to hear his voice instead of Subin's.

"Umm yeah, sure. But where's Subin?" You wanted to know, furrowing your brows and scanning the room to find you other friend.

"He had to leave early today. Mom told him to do his homework once in a lifetime." Sejun's monotonous voice was back and he was a little sad that you wanted to have Subin with you so badly.

You chuckled and put on your blazer and then your backpack, before you nodded at him to move on.

All students had left the classroom already so you were alone.

He started to shiver instead of leaving the room as he knew that he had to speak about what had happened between you two.

"Y/N.. I think we maybe need to talk." His shy self was back again.

"About what?" You asked, as you were wondering if he really would mention the incident again.

"About that day.. when you and I.." He wasn't able to finish his sentence, he was too insecure.

She probably doesn't want me to touch her anyways. Sejun thought and closed his eyes in brief.

"It's okay, Sejun-ah. We can just forget about it if you want." You patted his shoulder as you weren't really sure what to say or do.

"That's not it, Y/N. I want your permission to my touch. I want to be closer to you and not make you uncomfortable." The black haired boy looked to the ground, expecting you to be grossed out.

"You have my permission Sejun-ah, it's okay with me if you touch me more. I like it because I always enjoy your company. You have to know that, alright?" You gave him a warm smile when he finally found the courage to look at you.

He kept quite and nodded before leaving school with you.

He couldn't say it, but he deeply wanted to hold your hand.

You thought and felt the same so you just took the first step and interwined your hand with his.

You didn't expect this to be more than a close friendship but you enjoyed it anyways. As he always made you feel so safe and loved.

And Sejun was feeling like he just got everything he wanted in a matter of seconds. He would protect you, not caring about the rest of the world.

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I edited the story cover by myself but the pictures are not mine (so is the gif), credits to the owners :)

#victon sejun #kpop imagines #victon imagines #sejun smut #yandere #high school au #kpop smut

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ncisfranchise-source · 2 months ago

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NCIS: Origins Season 1, Episode 4 ‘All’s Not Lost’ is again, a pretty solid episode that gives a little more nuance to Gibbs’ grief, and at the same time, starts to peel back to layers of his relationships with the people on the team. Because yes, Franks and Lala are worried about him as the team faces a case involving a missing girl, but unlike Gibbs’ first instinct, that’s not a bad thing. It means he’s not alone anymore – despite his loss, and that he’s got people that care what happens to him.

The episode also gives us a glimpse at the devastating moment when Gibbs found out what happened to Sharon and Kelly, a moment I wouldn’t wish on anyone, and that the show plays with as much truth as the circumstances allow. I’ve been there, in the moment after learning you’ve lost a loved one. The immediate feeling isn’t even of loss, it’s of hopelessness. What are you even doing here without them? That Gibbs experienced that doesn’t make him a less relatable character, if anything, it makes him someone we can understand all the better.

SOMETHING TO COME HOME TO

The most shocking part of NCIS: Origins Season 1, Episode 4 ‘All’s Not Lost’ isn’t the reminder that Gibbs lost Sharon and Kelly, or the way the show takes us to the moment he found out, no, it was the fact that the show could make it seem both so gut-wrenching, and in a way, so real. The circumstances for Gibbs being what they are, can anyone blame him for just getting up as his team is getting ambushed, hoping he would get killed? Particularly when, at that moment, there likely wasn’t even a conscious thought behind it.

Because that’s the thing, and a little therapy would do Gibbs wonders – not that he’s going to listen, but the reality is that he didn’t actually try to kill himself in that moment, he just didn’t care if he died, and he didn’t care if he died in a particular moment where the disassociation was so big that he likely wasn’t even processing what was happening. If you just learned you lost your entire family, would you not just …go away, somewhere? In your head? Even for a little bit?

How he got from that ambush, from that moment to home, to more or less coping, to trying to move on, we don’t know. That’s the hardest part. The not dying, even if a part of you didn’t actually want to. Because there’s no denying that a part of you wouldn’t have minded if you did. That, at least, would have stopped the pain Gibbs has to live with every day.

IT WAS ONLY ME

The funny thing about NCIS: Origins Season 1, Episode 4 ‘All’s Not Lost’, if we can call it that, is that it frames Gibbs as someone not necessarily lonely – not in a way he can see, at least, but alone. And yet it’s not just about Gibbs, this show has proven it never is. It’s about Lala too, who seems to be in the same boat even though we know she has people in her personal life. Because the way she recognizes how Gibbs is doing feels very family – even if it’s not the same kind of loss she has experienced. Sometimes, when you see people breaking or about to break, they can be a reflection or a part of yourself that has been there before, and that’s where the sympathy comes from.

It’s more or less the same for Mary Jo, or it feels like it. Sure, everyone is acutely aware of how this case hits close to home for Gibbs because they’re people with empathy, but for a moment when Gibbs comes to check on the kid at the end, Mary Jo cracks. We don’t know enough about her yet, in fact, of the characters we have consistently spent time with she might be the one we know the least, but this episode clearly showcases that there’s deep pain behind the façade she puts on to be able to do the work every day.

And that, well …that means Gibbs isn’t really alone. Not just because he’s got people, but because the people around him can, in at least their own way, understand what he’s going through. Right now, he’s not at the point where that matters because he’s not ready to process it, but at some point, it will.

IT WAS ONLY ME… UNTIL IT WASN’T

The show isn’t even subtle with the way it frames the found family vibes and the way this team, these people, are going to be integral in shaping the Gibbs we will one day meet, the one who will also create a family out of the people around him. That has always been the mark of a good procedural, bringing a group of people together that seem like they don’t really fit together and finding a way to make them not just fit, but better each other.

For Gibbs, this is especially important because sometimes finding a reason to get up in the morning, to put one foot in front of the other, after you’ve lost everything you’ve built your life around, feels pretty impossible. But he did. We know that. It’s just about filling in the blanks of how. And NCIS: Origins feels like it’s peeling back the curtain of how.

And we’re not there yet, of course. Grief is never this easy a journey. But at least now there’s a path forward, and one we’re interested in following.

Things I think I think:

I like Franks’s wife(?) even though we’ve only seen very little of her. I cannot wait until we get to the bottom of that.

Sometimes it’s jarring to remember this show is set in the 90s and everyone just made insensitive jokes about race and/or women in the workplace.

“He’s used to it, he’s a redhead.” Poor Randy! He works hard.

Ok, but I’m dying to find out what the deal is with Strickland and Franks, particularly considering what we already know of Strickland from NCIS.

I find myself always being “Mike, what are you doing”? about Franks, except when he confronted that dude who lied.

Everyone’s interactions with the kid in this episode killed me, because everyone was so gentle. Ofc, the fact that it was Gibbs, as a dad – even if his kid isn’t alive anymore, who got to her, remains my favorite thing.

Lala’s face when Franks tells Mary Jo “no, because you’re both Blac,k.”

Ok, I feel like we gotta take note about the fact that Gibbs knew the details about the toys his daughter liked, even though he was surely actively deployed for parts of her life, because he was a good dad.

“Just because I lost my little girl doesn’t mean I can’t go in there and talk to that one.”

The way he got her to open up, too.

LOOK, if I cried as he cried over the toy, no one’s gotta know.

“You’re not alone, I had my own …” What, Mary Jo? What?

Also, Mary Jo almost took out the guy herself! Go you.

“This is the job.” Yeah, but it doesn’t mean it’s not hard or that it’s bad that people care.

Good man, bringing Tish flowers. Good man.

#ncis origins

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mister-supernova · 4 years ago

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Missed Connection

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

Pairing: Hope Mikaelson x Reader

It’s almost been a month since your encounter with the stranger you believed to be from your dreams. Without any luck of seeing her again, you were beginning to think that maybe that’s all she was; just some mere figment of your imagination that you so desperately wanted to have all the answers you needed.

As insufferably difficult this summer was for you, you still managed to get through it. You thought it was because school wasn’t in session and that you’d be back in your element in no time once classes begin again.

That was what you had hoped for anyways, but alas even when the halls were filled with your peers and your routine was back in place, nothing seemed to change. The mysterious void in your chest didn’t ease like you wished it would.

You couldn’t help but wonder if your friends had been feeling the same way, too. Surely there’s no chance that you could be alone in this situation, right?

“You can’t tell me that things haven’t felt a little weird since Landon destroyed Malivore. He doesn’t even know how it happened, Lizzie.”

The blonde Saltzman nearly whips you in the face with her hair as she abruptly turns to face you in the crowded hallway. “Y/n, we live in a world where witches, werewolves, and vampires exist. Everything in our lives is bound to have a tiny amount of weirdness.”

She made a good point and you knew that, but you also knew that this feeling was different. It had to be.

Lizzie frowns at the disappointed look on your face and rests a comforting hand on your shoulder, “Look, the most important thing is that Malivore is gone. No more bizarre monsters coming to kill us every week. Now try to stop overthinking things and let’s get through this school year in peace.”

Before you knew it, your conversation ended just as quickly as it started and Lizzie was on her way back to class. You hang your head with a defeated sigh, desperately searching the hallway for someone who may be just as lost as you were. Instead, you see everyone going about their first day back like normal.

Students who were away with their families are now smiling brightly as they reunite with friends. Other groups of friends laugh at a joke another says as they pass you by and you wonder if there was someone you should be doing that with.

The clarity that you sought out today only made you more confused than ever. At this point you wished that it was still summer vacation because seeing your classmates having a great first day back had you thinking that you really were alone with your feelings.

Maybe you just needed a day to hang out with your friends after class today. They may not share your thoughts on how odd things have felt recently, but being around them definitely helps clear your head.

“I’m sorry, Y/n. You know Landon and I would be down to watch a movie or something, but we’re going on our official first date today.” Josie tells you, disheartened.

After the multitude of movie dates the two of them shared throughout the summer, you’re surprised that none of those had been labeled as dates, but you weren’t going to tell her that outloud. The two of them seem to be really happy to be spending so much time together and you weren’t going to get in the middle and be the third wheel no one wants, especially on a first date.

“No worries, Jo. I’ll ask Lizzie and MG if they’re free.” She gives you a gentle squeeze on your arm with a sympathetic smile before you go off to find her sister.

Things didn’t seem to be going to plan here either.

“If I hadn’t already agreed to this stupid- I mean,” she grits her teeth with a forced smile, “very cool study date with MG I’d totally hang out with you. God knows I’d rather do anything else.” You knew you weren’t supposed to hear that last part, but Lizzie was always awful at lowering her voice.

If you weren’t already feeling distraught, this definitely was the cherry on top of your depressing cake of sadness.

Instead of showing Lizzie that, you plastered the fakest smile you could and responded with, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just… hang out downtown and get myself a milkshake at the Grill or something.”

Plan “get your friends to distract you from the abrasive thoughts penetrating your brain” had failed, but you weren’t going to let it stop you from at least getting out of the school for a couple of hours. With everyone so busy while classes are back in session, it made you wonder what in the world you did after school before this year.

As much as you tried hyping up how fun it was going to be hanging out downtown by yourself, it only made you feel even more bummed out. Like everything else you’ve been doing since the night Malivore was destroyed, something felt off and nothing seemed to be your remedy.

Minutes turned to hours and you ended up drinking four full glasses of cookies and cream milkshakes at the Grill, literally falling into a sugar coma at your table outside. The sun was barely setting when you got here, but then it was fully dark out when you were woken up from your sugar rush nap.

“Jesus, Y/n. I thought you were dead or something.” You lean your head upwards to see that it was Landon who woke you from your slumber.

“One could not be so lucky, phoenix boy.” You groggily respond, stretching out your muscles and wiping any drool from your cheeks.

Looking at your surroundings, you notice that Josie isn’t around.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?”

There’s a pained look on Landon’s face at your question, “Yeah, about that… she, uh, she said she wasn’t feeling too good and decided to go back to the school.”

You raise an eyebrow at him, “What, did you take her to eat sushi or something?”

That was meant to be a joke, but the look of realization on the curly-haired boy’s face told you all you needed to know.

“You went to a sushi place.”

Landon quickly slides into the seat across from yours, “It’s what I suggested. W-Was I not supposed to?”

“Jo can’t digest any sort of raw food without wanting to convulse. I learned that the hard way when I first started going to the Salvatore school,” you shiver at the memory, “Never again.”

The phoenix begins falling into a full state of panic, “Oh my God. I didn’t know that! Wh-What am I supposed to do? What if I completely ruined everything? What if she never wants to go on another date with me again? What if-”

Your patience was thinning very quickly, “Landon, just relax. Take a breather for a second,” you inhale, watching him do the same, and breathe out at the same time, “Go back to the school, check up on her, have a convo about getting some better communication skills and I’m sure everything will be fine.”

Landon nods, “Okay, okay yeah. That’s good. I’ll, uh, I’ll do that,” he continues to sit across from you until you look at him expectantly, “Do I do that now?”

“For your sake, Josie’s, and especially mine, yes. Now would be great, buddy.”

“Right, okay. Thanks, Y/n!” He scrambles out of his seat and begins to shuffle away from the Grill.

“Go get ‘em, Tiger!” You shout with as much enthusiasm you could muster before slumping back into your chair.

Still dazed from the sugar rush nap and exhausted from that conversation, you lean forward with your elbows on the table and begin wiping the sleep from your eyes using the palms of your hands.

“This is gonna be one hell of a year.”

“Long day, huh?” You recognize that it’s a girl’s voice you’re hearing, but not one that was familiar to you.

Moving your hands away from blocking your view, you look up to see the person you convinced yourself was just a figment of your imagination. The long auburn colored hair, fair-skinned, blue eyed girl from your dreams was standing right before you. For a moment, you thought that maybe you really had lost it.

“Sorry. I just, I saw you sitting here earlier and thought you might want company.”

You’re almost positive that you were staring at her with your mouth hanging open like an absolute idiot. Just say something, dumbass!

“Mind if I join you?” She asks, gesturing towards the now empty chair that Landon left behind.

“Yes!”

Idiot!

“I mean no! No, I uh, I don’t mind.” You chuckle nervously, adjusting yourself in every way possible to hide the fact that you were internally freaking out.

The girl gives you a patient smile before taking the seat in front of you, “So, party of one tonight, huh? I mean, I saw you finish talking to someone right now, but it didn’t seem you two were here together.”

“Yeah, no. Not together at all or with anyone really,” for some reason you had to make this very clear to her, “That was just a friend of mine who’s having some lady troubles, so I decided to be a good samaritan and give him some positive advice.”

“How chivalrous of you.” Right away you could tell that she was teasing and the nerves you had seconds ago simply began to vanish.

“Why thank you,” you smile, feeling a wave of warmth when she returns one back, “But yeah, it’s just been me, myself, and I for the night… and day… and probably for the rest of the school year if I’m honest.”

Her smile fades and she tilts her head inquisitively, “What makes you say that?”

Oh, where to begin.

“I’ve been asking myself that for a while now actually. Everything should feel perfect given the fact that I have these amazing friends, I go to this incredible school, I’m 100% healthy and not dying of anything that I know of,” you shrug at yourself, “I should be happy with that, but I’m not. It feels so selfish of me to say and I wish I could fix it, but I can’t. How can everything be so close to perfect, but yet there’s still something wrong?”

The girl stares at you with such empathy and sadness in her eyes that you could swear she was holding something back.

You continue, “Things also haven’t felt normal lately. My definition of normal anyways. For some reason everything has felt completely off, like I’m missing something. You know when you forget that there’s somewhere you’re supposed to be? Like an event and you don’t realize you’ve forgotten about it until the day of and you say to yourself, ‘oh shit, I can’t believe I forgot about this really important thing’. That’s how I’ve felt ever since summer started,” you notice her tense up slightly, but you continue, “but I can’t remember what I’m forgetting.”

At this point, you were surprised this girl didn’t think you were crazy and start running for the hills. If this were any normal stranger, you wouldn’t feel comfortable enough to overshare the thoughts you’ve been keeping secret from your close friends. For some reason, she made you feel the complete opposite. Strangely enough--given the world you live in--you felt safe with her.

“Everyone at school is making me feel like I’m the only person who feels this way. Everyone else can go back to normal. Everyone else can move on and go on dates and study dates and hang out with their friends and go to class without feeling lost and overall just be… normal.” You finally let go of the breath you had been holding in for what feels like months.

Then you start to laugh at the ridiculousness that just spewed out of your mouth, “Jesus Christ. I’m so sorry. You probably thought you were going to have an innocent ‘nice weather we’re having’ type of conversation, but instead you got a stranger dumping their whole life crisis onto you.”

“You really don’t have to apologize. Trust me, I understand how insanely messed up life can get and how relieving it is to just vent it all out,” she gives you a reassuring nod with a genuine look of understanding that you’ve been wanting to see for months, “Even if it’s to someone who can potentially be a serial killer.”

The both of you burst out into a fit of laughs and you swear that you’ve never felt so connected to a person you just met. It was as if your souls had met in another life and were catching up for the first time in a while. Neither of you had a name to place with your faces, but that didn’t seem matter because you already felt like you’ve known this girl for years.

“I’ve had quite a rough couple of months myself. Not sure if I’d binge drink four cookies and cream milkshakes to numb the pain though.”

You shrug, “Well, it’s better than the latter option that I can’t even legally purchase because I’m underage. Plus, it helps that these are the best milkshakes in town--even if they are 4 dollars a glass.”

Now you’re hoping that your old co-worker can cover your bill since you only brought ten dollars with you tonight. Before you could reach for your wallet just to be sure, another thought crossed your mind.

“Wait. How did you know they were cookies and cream? I know it’s a lot of milk to force inside by body, but I normally leave no trace of evidence behind. Are you a witch or something?” That last part was obviously a joke otherwise she’d be at your school by now.

The girl opens her mouth to speak, but it takes her a moment to come up with an explanation, “It was my best friend’s favorite. Yeah, we used to go out for milkshakes all the time and I guess something about you reminds me of them.”

You smile, flattered, “Well, might I say, your best friend has amazing taste,” she purses her lips into a tightened smile and lowers her gaze, almost as is the memories of this said ‘best friend’ pained her to think about, “I’m assuming things aren’t so great with them right now?”

She sighs at the thought, “We were close for a long time. I’m actually surprised that they stayed as long as they did. I probably gave them a million reasons to bail, but they were annoyingly persistent,” she chuckles, “I’ll admit, it took me a while to settle into our friendship, but the moment I did was something I would never regret. From that point on the only thing that could separate us was death.”

Judging by her heavy use of past tense words, you could only think the worst happened, “Did they, you know, um…?” You didn’t want to ask the full question seeing that she was clearly still hurt by the absence of this person.

She shakes her head, “No. No, it turned out death wasn’t the only factor that was able to keep us apart. We meant a lot to each other and later realized that there was more to us than just friendship. Eventually, things started becoming serious but me being the person I am, I pushed them away and left.”

“Have you tried reaching out to them again?” You thought that there was no way two people who felt those intense feelings could completely forget about each other.

“Once, but things changed. They took one look at me and acted as if I never existed.” Maybe it was the empath in you, but it broke your heart seeing a small pool of tears building up in her eyes. You wished that you could say something to make her feel better and tell her that everything will be okay, but how could you when you don’t know her?

She quickly wipes the tears before they could fall and takes in a deep breath that you instinctively mirrored to compose yourselves.

“I guess it’s my turn to say sorry, huh? I feel like my baggage was a little heavier than yours there,” she sniffs, huffing out a light chuckle.

“Well, if we’re giving out medals here, you’ve got the gold. That’s for sure,” you grin, hoping to lighten up the mood.

Her laugh--that you could tell was genuine--gave you the assurance you needed.

“I feel like I should give you a hug. I mean, if you’re cool with that,” you suggest, ready to push yourself out of your seat, “Because I could kind of use one and I’m just assuming--”

“That would be great, yeah,” the girl nods with a relieved smile.

“Alright, great.”

The two of you stand, moving around the table to meet each other in the middle. Her head seemed to fit perfectly against your chest as her arms pressed behind your back. All of the weight that had been piling up on your shoulders began to fall at your feet and the tension from stress that built up inside your chest began fading away. How this could happen from an interaction with a complete stranger, you had absolutely no idea.

“Is it weird if I say this doesn’t feel weird?” You ask with the side of your head leaned against hers.

“Well, I think things are only weird when someone makes it weird.”

You pause for a moment, “Do you think this feels weird?”

She laughs and you know for a fact that she could hear your heart skip a beat, “No. I don’t.”

You fight the goofy grin from appearing on your face, but fail miserably, “Okay, good.”

Part of you was afraid of what’ll happen the moment you separate. You had no idea when would be the next time you see this girl or if there was going to be a next time. This was the first day in a while when you didn’t feel lost, instead you felt that this was exactly where you needed to be. You felt normal.

Before you could actually start making things weird, you begin to pull away from her embrace, “Well, tonight I learned that I can click with a stranger within a span of ten minutes give or take, so thank you for that.”

She smiles, “Thank you, too.”

“I think it’s safe to say that we’re at the point of learning each other’s names now.”

“Yes, because why start with those when we could just tell our whole life stories and share an intimate hug first?”

“Exactly! Actually, you know what? I think we should get married in Vegas really quick and we’ll just figure out our names during the vows section of the wedding ceremony. Whatever we come up with in the moment will just be how we refer to each other for the rest of our lives,” you joke.

“You’re absolutely right.” Wow, a girl who can keep up with your sarcasm without thinking you’re a complete--huge emphasis on complete--idiot? She is the girl of your dreams--literally and metaphorically.

You stared down at her in wonder, hoping to God that you’re not dreaming and that this interaction has been real, “It’s, uh, it’s Y/n by the way. My name. Y/n L/n.”

“Hope. Hope Marshall,” she reveals and a victorious smile appears on your lips when you finally have a name to match a face.

Your smile quickly drops when the clock tower starts going off and you realize that it’s nearly midnight, “Well, it’s been a pleasure meeting you tonight, Hope. I'm sorry to cut the rest of the evening short, but my school just got a new headmaster and unfortunately he’s a lot more strict on our curfew than our previous one. Don’t want to turn into a pumpkin, you know?”

She chuckles, “No worries at all. It was nice meeting you, too, Y/n,” Hope smiles and you can tell that she didn’t want to leave. If you were being honest, you really didn’t want to either.

Neither of you could find the energy to be the first person to walk away. To do that would be like trying to separate two annoyingly strong and stubborn magnets apart.

As much as you wanted to spend the whole night learning more about each other, you also didn’t want to be put in detention on the first day back at school.

Unwillingly, you take the first step backwards without wanting to fully turn away from your newfound acquaintance, “Thanks again for the chat. I hope to see you again very soon, Marshall.”

Hope rolls her eyes, but can’t contain a smile, “Only if you’re lucky.”

“I think I like my chances,” you wink playfully before turning your heel to make your way back to the school feeling the most energized you’ve felt in a long time.

apologies for the later update than usual with this series and I apologize in advance if it takes a while for part 6 to be posted. I’m in a bit of a writing funk right now and my mind is currently locked onto the Wilds soooo there may or may not be imagines for that fandom coming from me soon. anyways, happy late 2021 and here’s to hoping this year isn’t complete shit! much love y’all

taglist: @chicken-wang09 @trikruismybitch @sodangtired

#hope mikaelson #hope mikaelson imagine #hope mikaelson x reader #legacies #legacies cw #legacies imagine #legacies x reader

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charlotte-headcanons · 3 years ago

Note

If it's not too much, may I ask for anemone, chrisanthemum and daisy for Perospero and Amande? Only if you don't mind of course! I love these two so much and I really wanna know what you think 😭

Yes of course friend!! 💕 (Psst I love them too so it's much appreciated -Jo) Hope you like what we came up with! Thanks for asking ✨

CW: violence, death, trauma

Anemone: How does your muse view the world; as a cruel & unforgiving place, a land full of wonders, or something in-between? Where does that worldview come from (what experiences, life lessons, etc.)?

In Perospero's eyes, the world outside of Totto is harsh, gritty, and grey. He fully believes that Totto Land is a land of dreams, though, and excuses everything questionable about the country and Big Mom's policies as the only right way, as necessary, or as still better than the rest of the world. He loves color, sweetness, family, and doesn't mind the underlying morbid tones they all have in Mama's territory. Thus, to him, his life is a blessing, and he believes that it's a blessing for the rest of his family too. Fuck everyone else.

His view on life could be summarized in two sentences: "the main purpose in life is to have fun" and "don't take life too seriously, you'll never get out of it alive". He might take on many responsibilities within Mama's pirate crew and wish for even more, considering that he wants to be the captain, but in all honesty, that's all just for fame, flair, and for life to get exciting.

Where does his worldview come from? Well, out of all the siblings, he's probably one of the most indoctrinated. Having always been a mama's boy, he took Linlin's words for granted, tried to justify even the worst of her deeds, and thus came to fully believe in the outside world being wrong. Even as he grew up and came to travel on missions, even as he visited different countries, he was already way too deep in the confirmation bias of Totto Land and the Charlotte family being the best of all; few things could now really shake this worldview of his up.

Amande thinks that she has a very neutral view on the world. She believes in balance, in good and bad energies completing each other, and in the world around you being an effect of your actions, not a constraint. However, she has a very dark view on the ways life and death work in the world. If she was to summarize what life is like, she'd probably say something along the lines of "it's kill or be killed, reign supreme or become a stepping stone for the more powerful. I made my choice. What about you?"

Her outlook on life is partially a result of how much she internalized her time spent among the Rocks Pirates. Having observed these powerful people constantly fighting, jumping at each other throats, she convinced herself that she must kill all vulnerability and emotion in herself to not be used or slayed. It didn't help that her family is full of bloodthirsty pirates and that Linlin encouraged her psychopathic behaviors, too.

Chrysanthemum: How does your muse express romantic love? How do they feel about love as a concept?

Perospero both wants romantic love and doesn't fully trust it. He hates commitment, yes, but he also kind of wants someone to fall back onto, someone to admire him, and give him all the attention he craves. Most of all, though, he wants to feel secure. Because of that, he doesn't let people into his heart easily, being scared of getting too dependent or too open and vulnerable. As he sees it, even if he has feelings for someone, at the end of the day it's still a stranger he's getting to know - not like family who was with him from the beginning and who he believes will always be there for him. So yes, he can jump around into various relationships, but getting truly serious about dating anyone would be special, and it's not something that happened yet. He tends to claim that love is actually very rare and he's not planning to start lying to himself that some random person truly loves him; despite being very expressive and extroverted, feelings-wise he's actually a really tough shell to crack.

If he falls for someone, though, Perospero turns into a total old sap in private. He gets very touchy, seeking constant physical contact, and might actually (gasp) talk about his emotions for once! He definitely requires a fuck ton of attention and affection back, and might have some yandere tendencies: not so much jealousy driven (he's polyamorous) but quite obsessive for sure.

Amande has a cynical view on love, seeing it as either 'chemicals in your brain that force you to mate' or as weak people seeking someone to feel a bit stronger. Effectively, she's a cold woman who doesn't seek out love, whether romantic or platonic. She much prefers to remain independent and unconstrained, and might even judge those who care for their significant others too much or those who gush about their relationships.

Daisy: Did your muse ever feel as though their innocence had been lost? What moment in their life could be described as the end of their innocence?

Few Charlottes even remember the time of their innocence. Due to how they were raised, they were taught to kill very quickly, they had to grow up and learn to provide for themselves way too fast, and thus, few of them actually got to have an innocent childhood. Amande and Perospero are definitely not among those few.

If Amande was ever innocent, it goes so far back that she wouldn't recall it. As far as she remembers, even as a child she was fascinated with the morbid, she preferred murder than playing with other children, and she didn't understand when people talked about their emotions. Again, this is largely due to how much she internalized her time with the Rocks Pirates, and what she learned there never really left her.

There is a moment in Perospero's early life which he doesn't like to think about and he likes to erase from his memory. He's never been innocent in conventional ways, but he used to at least be a very positive child, believing in Mama 100%. Everything changed though when he first witnessed Big Mom kill one of her own babies in a craving rage. As much of a family secret as it is, there were more than 85 Charlotte children, but many of them perished before they could grow up or learn to walk, being defenseless and just too close to Linlin when she got hungry. As the eldest and someone who hanged around Mama a lot, Perospero probably witnessed it happen, and if anything, that was when his innocence broke and when he became who he is today. Thinking back to this moment makes his absolute faith in Mama take a heavy blow, as it's really hard to excuse it, but he usually refuses to remember it happened. Life's simpler this way, really.

#one piece #charlotte perospero #charlotte amande #ask

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high-supernatural · 4 years ago

Text

Secrets pt.2

Kai Parker x Female Reader/Character

Word Count: 2197

Warnings: typical tvd themes, mean Kai, they kiss at the end ;);)

Summary: Kai merged with Luke and started feeling different soon after. He got sick and the reader took care of him, throwing him into a fit of confusion. She doesn’t judge him for anything and has the understanding that he’s a product of his environment and acts out of revenge and distrust of others. Kai knows this after having a conversation with her and decides to find out all of her secrets too.

***since y’all like the one shots better than the series, I’m gonna write one shots for female readers under the name V for what I would’ve/will write in the series***

V felt even more like she was losing him now. When he went to get Jo’s magic, she went into the woods, her safe space, and begged to have her old world back, no matter how terrible it was, she wasn’t alone, she had a team, a family.

She was out there for hours and went back after the sun had gone down, silently hoping Kai wasn’t in the room. He was.

She opened the door and saw him sitting on a chair he had pulled between the coffee table and the couch. She closed the door with her back facing him and walked to the bathroom while taking her sweatshirt off, wearing a tank top underneath.

Kai grabbed her wrist as she walked past trying to avoid him, “someone’s had a rough night,” he said looking at her red eyes.

“And someone’s suddenly all better,” she looked at him expressionless.

He let go and looked away, “yeah… well…” he looked at the book he had in his hands, “turned out I wasn’t really sick, I just needed Jo’s magic and had Luke’s,” he looked back at her, still expressionless.

“Well, congrats, you can go back to being an even bigger dick now,” she was about to walk to the bathroom when she saw what he was holding.

“Why are you holding my journal?” she asked.

“Well…” he completed his coined dramatic pause, “I figured since you know all my secrets I should know yours,” she just stared at him so he kept talking, “SO, I got to reading, then I thought to myself, ‘self, this is way too personal to be reading alone, you should read it with her’, and so, here we are,” he smiled.

She didn’t see any malicious energies behind what he said, but still she asked, “what kind of game is this, Kai?”

“No games,” he said childishly, “have a seat,” he motioned at the couch.

She sat with her knees to her side, staring at him, waiting for him to start attacking her with everything she has in her journal.

“Let’s begin,” he said.

He crossed one of his legs over the other and flipped the book open, clearing his throat, “2007, age 10,” he read, “the last time I went to the prison world,” he stopped to look at her, “man you’re really obsessed with me,” he said with a smirk.

“Mhm, keep reading,” she raised an eyebrow.

“2007, 11th birthday, page 12,” he gasped in sarcasm, “what’s on page 12?” he flipped to the page and read, “I was at school, I didn’t want to go to school this day, it felt different. It felt like danger. I remember begging my parents not to make me go, but they did anyways, assuming I wanted to ditch on my birthday,” he paused to say, “those assholes,” before continuing, “I convinced Audrey and Kai to ditch with me into the basement right before we heard screams. We hid behind the vents behind a tall shelf and covered our ears when we heard the first bomb. The school crumbled onto us, but we couldn’t move. I remember begging in my mind that nobody would find us, I felt like they were here for us,” he paused again, “paranoid much?” and continued, “a group of people came into the basement calling my name, but I wasn’t going to say anything,” he looked up again, “hm, maybe not so paranoid,” and went on. “They got angry when they couldn’t find me and set the basement on fire before leaving. We almost couldn’t make it out after they left, but then I heard my dad calling for me.”

Kai flipped back to the original page he came from and looked at her, “that was tragic,” she kept staring at him, saying nothing.

“aaaand not so long after, ‘2007, 1 week after the first attack,’” he read and flipped to the page numbered beside it.

“Me, Audrey, Kai, and my parents made it to the western coast of Europe to find a boat. We traveled from Lyon to the coast of the Celtic Sea,” Kai paused again to say “I didn’t know that’s where you were from,” and chuckled before returning, “learning how to hijack cars on the way. We saw nobody the whole way. When we did, they were dead, or a monster. We didn’t know what happened yet. Everything was destroyed and I felt nothing. I went into survivor mode. We stole a boat to head towards America… we made it halfway before the waters got rough. The boat started filling with water until it was fully under. Everybody got onto a lifeboat except me, I was under the water. They started going without me until Audrey jumped and saved me. That’s when we made our deal.”

Kai gasped again, “is that why you don’t like the ocean?” he smiled through his next words and chuckled, “it is, isn’t it?” flipping back to the other page.

“You having fun yet?” V asked.

He ignored her, “what was the deal with Audrey?” he asked, “maybe it’s on this page,”

“Page 24,” she told him, “The good stuff you’re looking for is on page 24.”

Kai read again, “age 15,” he stopped again, “no dates this time, weird,” he continued, “we made it to America just days before it was attacked. We had enough time to find the community of hunters we came here for, barely. Angels were taking over. The biblical apocalypse. I don’t know what to believe anymore. My dad turned into one of those murderous vamps and we had to let him go. When we were captured my mom was killed. Me and Audrey made it out of captivity, I don’t know where Kai is anymore,” he trailed his next words, “he was with us when we were caught, he was with us through captivity, but he started to change. I woke up one morning and he wasn’t in his cell next to us. I never saw him again. I want to believe he’s dead but I know he’s somewhere far worse. It’s just me and Audrey now. We have the community but it’s thinning.”

V looked at her hands and back at Kai, “there’s letters I wrote him even though I knew I’d probably never find him in the back if you want to read those too,” she said softly.

Kai closed the book slowly and put it on the table between them, “I’m good, I think I have enough to figure you out now too.”

V put her feet on the ground, “cool, can I go now,” she rolled her eyes and didn’t give him time to answer before going into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

Kai leaned against the door and heard soft sobs and couldn’t help but feel a little bad about how he went about this.

When she came out of the bathroom Kai was leaning against the wall outside of it. She took a step back and waited for him to talk, “I need to run to the gas station, come with me?” he asked.

“I don’t want to,” she responded softly. He gave her a pouty face and she ended up going anyways.

They walked to the gas station to get snacks and drinks before Kai sat at the bus stop bench, “what are you doing now?” V asked annoyed.

“I want to talk to you,”

“You talk enough, constantly,” she responded. Kai just sat smirking at her, so she sighed and sat down next him, looking in another direction.

A moment of silence went by before he spoke, “I don’t know how to talk to you, V,” he gently placed his fingers on her upper arm prompting her to snap her head and look him up and down as her reflex response.

“That’s crazy because you’re always talking,” she snapped.

He took his hand away. “I think I care about you, but I don’t know how to talk to you, and I only have a few things I want to say,” he looked into the distance, and she looked at him, “just say them,” she said.

She looked into his eyes when he spoke, “I’ve done some… really bad things. Some I won’t even admit. But they haunt me, eat at me, and I can’t get rid of them. I killed my family, kids too. And it got me locked away for 18 years. I came back and killed more of them, I didn’t learn anything from being there,” she still looked at him, listening, when he looked away to finish.

“There’s times I’m afraid I’m gonna kill you too. Or anybody, really. It’s not a revenge kick. I slept on the couch because I woke up with my hand on your throat and I thought about it for a split second. My entire life I’ve been the freak, feigning for hits of magic like a kid on drugs. I became the coven leader, and nothing really changed,” he stopped and looked at his hands before continuing.

“Except now I can feel things and I don’t know how to process. I remember everything I’ve done and I know it was wrong, but part of me still doesn’t care,” he sniffed and looked the other way to avoid tears before looking back down, “everything I’ve done in my life has been the wrong thing. I don’t know how to do the right thing. When I was in that prison world there were times I’d try to end it multiple times a day, now that I’m here I think about it a lot because I know it’d work this time. I’m not a good person, V, I never have been, someone like you shouldn’t be around me.”

“Look at me,” she spoke, “your family sucked, not you,” she moved his face to look at her with her finger, “they isolated you because you were different and they didn’t understand, that’s not on you. They beat you, didn’t let you touch or come near anybody, treated you different, and over time you turned yourself into somebody they thought you were. You tried being who you were, but everybody around you acted like you were different, so that’s who you became.”

“How do you know all this” he whispered.

“When I look at you I can see past the things not even you can see in yourself. I can see who you really are in that deep place, and I can see who your family made you out to be on the outside. You’re not evil, Kai.”

“You know what I’ve done, V—” he interrupted.

“I know what you’ve done, and I know your motives behind it. I still think what you’ve done says more about your family than it does you, because that’s who they built. I see you on the outside and see something they built in their image. Underneath that I see revenge, hatred, and an aimed vengeance. Deeper I see someone who wants to let it go but can’t because they hurt every aspect of your being. But deeper I see that you just hurt, all the time, and it doesn’t stop, and I get it, you’re confused a lot.”

There was a long pause, Kai looked away and V looked at him still.

She sighed and scooted closer to him, “you aren’t evil. Not only can I see that, but you prove it. A real psycho wouldn’t have had the conscious to sleep on the couch or talk to me about anything. If you were really a psycho with no feelings, I’d either be dead or you wouldn’t be here because you’d break the pact,” she grabbed his hand and he looked at her again.

“Get it through your head this time,” she spoke soft, “you aren’t evil. I’ve seen enough evil to see it a mile away and I wouldn’t want you that far away from me.”

She interlocked their fingers as they looked at each other. Kai had an expression on his face that told her he wanted to close the space between them but part of him didn’t believe what she was saying, he was scared and frustrated with himself.

She took her hand away to wrap her arms around his neck, bending her knees up onto the bus stop bench to her side and got closer to his face, “believe me,” she whispered before laying her lips on his.

He placed a hand on her waist and the other on her knee, giving into the kiss.

They moved their lips together for what felt like minutes but was only a few seconds before V pulled away with her arms still around him, “do you believe me then,” she asked.

“If I say no, will you kiss me again?” Kai said almost speechless.

V pulled him into another, more passionate kiss, rubbing her thumb through his hair as his hand made its way up to hers, placing the hand that was on her knee behind her, pulling her deeper.

She opened her eyes slowly, “we should head back,”

“If you promise you’ll do that again, okay,”

“Pinky swear.”

#kai parker #kai parker x reader #kai parker x you #kai parker imagine #kai parker fluff #kai parker fanfic #malachai parker #tvd #tvd fanfiction #tvd au #tvd series

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alivedeanwinchester · 4 years ago

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In his color coded speak | 1.3k | tattoonatural (read it on AO3)

The first thing Cas notices while putting Dean's body back together is the ink.

Tattoonatural: where everything is the same except Dean Winchester gets to be the tattooed man he deserves to be and Cas gets obsessed with that.

The first thing Cas notices while putting Dean's body back together is the ink.

Intricate lines etched in skin, some delicate and some violent, all joined together to form black patterns. A skull on the upper arm, that goes together with a dagger just below, a butterfly on the neck that looks fragile just like the skin there, a tiger and a wolf and a fox, a snake crawling up the wrist. Cas has never thought "beautiful" relating to humans before that moment, and it wouldn't be the last time he would think that relating to Dean Winchester.

On the course of those first encounters, Cas always gets himself trying to get glimpses of inked skin, Dean using so many layers and all. Not being able to see it again makes his own skin prickle with something that he can't name.

Getting more accustomed to humans, he learns that those are tattoos, a process where a professional artist inserts ink into the second layer of skin creating images or drawings, he learns that some people give meanings to their tattoos and some just do it because they think it's pretty. Cas keeps wondering which one is Dean's case.

The first thing Cas notices when Anna kisses Dean in that barn is her ring finger, there's a tiny delicate cross tattoo in it, he even gets the irony. The next thing is the way her hand cradles Dean's cheek and that makes his stomach turn in a bitter way that he doesn't quite understand.

Even in the middle of an apocalypse in the making, Cas' curiosity continues to grow, but he seems unable to ask Dean about it. He finds his opportunity in the name of Sam Winchester.

They're sitting on a motel room table and Sam's sleeve lifts when he goes to grab his beer.

"Is that a camomile flower?" he asks.

"Uh... yes" Sam answers frowning.

"I apologize, didn't mean to-".

"No, it's okay, just... uh... it reminds me of Jess, that's all", and Cas waits while Sam strokes his inner wrist where the tattoo is.

"It was our first date and we got a little drunk. There was a tattoo parlour around the corner and she kinda dared me to do it. She even got the idea and the place ready, asked the artist to put some color on it and I just did it... because even then i already knew I'd do anything she asked me too".

They don't talk about it anymore, but Cas can't shake it out of his mind for days. He wonders if someone dared Dean to do it too, if he touches the Orion constellation in his right arm or the compass wind rose in his shoulder and thinks about that person like Sam does.

The night after they try to kill the devil and fail, when everything goes to shit and they lose Ellen and Jo, Dean grabs his arm and takes him downtown, where there's a place in a dark street with a green neon sign and a broken window. Inside, there's a pool table and antifascist posters on the walls. Cas leans on a wall while Dean sits with Joe - a tattoo artist, Cas learns as Dean introduces them - and ruffles through a notebook. He points at something on the page and goes lay down on the tattoo stretcher, his left arm outstretched.

Eventually, Cas approaches them, he sees needle breaching skin and leaving ink behind, he sees the way Joe gets serious when doing a tough line on the drawing, the way Dean looks at the ceiling and seems to be at peace. Later, Cas remembers thinking Dean never looked so beautiful, enduring the only pain that is not forced on them, the pain he allows himself.

Dean doesn't explain anything, doesn't show the new anchor sitting on the inside of his arm to anyone but him. Cas doesn't know if he cares so he doesn't tell him, but anchor tattoos mean stability, peace, strength, determination and passion, some things that dean wants and some things that dean already has but ain't aware of. Cas thinks he understands the feeling, the want of something to focus amidst of chaos, the controlled pain and the mark that stays.

Cas thought that once he had understood, he would stop thinking about them, but he doesn't. He starts wondering what he would do if he would to mark his flesh like this. He doesn't know where this is coming from, but it's always present.

There's always this want when it comes to Dean. He wants to know more, he wants to watch and memorize every feature, he wants to listen, but most of all he wants to touch. That urge is so intense that sometimes he lets his hands linger when he's healing Dean's wounds. He keeps wanting even when the world keeps ending around them.

When they get back from purgatory, Cas does something about it.

Dean finds him in front of a mirror later, with his shirt up and a tattoo sitting on his ribs. They just stand there for a moment, Dean's eyes keep going from Cas' face and his torso and he seems stunned. Cas knows him well enough now to realize what he's thinking, "how contagious can I be to fuck up something holy ", but he doesn't say it, he reaches for it.

When his fingers ghost Cas' skin, he asks "Can I?" and Cas just nods because he doesn't know how to say that there's nothing that he wants more.

Dean touches the letters very softly, alis grave nil , "Wha- what does it mean?".

"Nothing is heavy to those who have wings".

Dean keeps his touch very gentle, he traces the yellow and white lines that resemble a halo and the letters again and Cas just stands there breathing.

"Why? I mean, Cas, it's beautiful, but... I didn't know that you... ", he's standing upright now and looking Cas in the eyes and Cas wants.

"Because I wanted Dean" and aren't they all in this mess because Cas dared to want things he couldn't have, because Cas dared to feel and to fall?

Dean reaches again, his palm against cas cheek. They breathe together for a moment and then Dean kisses him.

Cas always dreamed about telling Dean that it's okay to want things, that he deserves good things and that he isn't broken, and that even if he was, Cas would choose him over and over again, but he never knows enough words for that.

So he shows him. With the softness of his lips and the wetness of his tongue and the grip of his hands. In the way he pulls Dean's hair just enough to hear a moan from him, in the way he pushes him to bed, and sits in his lap, the way his fingers drag on Dean's side when he lifts his shirt. In the soft way he opens him up and fills him in and in the hard way he thrusts when Dean asks for it.

Dean started tattooing himself when he was fourteen because he needed the needle pain to ground him, something he could control, something that was only his. To prove the universe that his body belonged to him and not to his father or the violent life he was going to live. Cas started tattooing himself after he raised a soul from perdition and fell so irrevocably in love that he needed to manifest in his body where he really belonged. Not in Heaven or Purgatory or the Empty, but at Dean Winchester's side.

Cas gets to want things now and to have them and Dean learns to ask for more. And if Cas gets to trace Dean's tattoos with his tongue these days, neither Heaven nor Earth get to know about it.

#spn #supernatural #destiel #deancas #drabble #spn fic #zuzu writes #my writing #tattooed dean winchester #tattoonatural #i'm obsessed with the good spn that lives in my head #dean gets to have tattoos and sam gets to dress like a hippie #the most ooc dean moment is him having only one canon tattoo #dude is mentally unstable it's obvious how he'd be addicted to needle pain #i'm right and i should say it #spare a reblog please i made with love <3 #destiel fic #destiel ao3 #spn ao3

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olivemac · 3 years ago

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1300 miles | chapter 3 | b.b.

Summary | Bucky Barnes is adjusting to civilian life, living in Brooklyn, visiting Sam in Delacroix when he can, and trying to figure out what he wants. When he meets Jo Landry, the tattooed lead singer of a New Orleans-based band, he thinks he might have found the answer. Too bad they live 1300 miles apart.

Time Frame | post-TFATWS

Pairing | Bucky Barnes x fem!oc

Rating | explicit

Warnings | mentions of combat-related injuries, alcohol use, tattoos/body piercings, coarse language, gay male character, bisexual female character, recreational/medicinal drug use (weed), pet names (doll, pretty girl, Sarge), smut [f/m, mutual masturbation, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PIV, very very slight dom!Bucky, slight praise kink, very slight somnophilia], angst if you squint but not really, and all the romance tropes/fluff because I'm a sucker for it; more warnings to come; 18+ ONLY, minors DNI

Tag | @mrs--barnes

A/N | Decided to go pure filth and fantasy for chapter three. Enjoy. 😉

series master list | AO3 link | full master list

1300 miles playlist

_____

previous chapter

_____

Since returning in The Blip, Bucky has hated the time between when he lays down and when he falls asleep. He can't seem to turn his mind off. He's still getting used to being alone with his own thoughts, having his own thoughts. Wakanda offered him some peace, and in his apartment, he keeps the TV running constantly to fill the silence and stop himself from getting too lost inside his head. But at Sarah's house, he's afraid to turn the television on for fear of waking anyone else. So, on Sunday night, he lays on the couch listening to the house creak and groan around him, trying not to overanalyze everything that's happened in the past twenty-four hours. He also tries not to think about Jo and everything he likes about her: her laugh, her voice, her eyes, her lips, her hands, her breasts—

He cuts off his train of thought. She's funny, clever, and kind, and in just a few short hours, she seems to have commanded Bucky's undivided attention.

_____

On Monday morning, Bucky debates whether or not to text Jo. Sam advises him to wait a day or two: "Put the ball in her court. You don't want to seem over-eager," he says. Bucky doesn't point out that he hasn't felt this way about a woman in eighty years, so he is definitely beyond eager.

Luckily, Jo texts him first.

The slightly outdated smart phone Sam convinced him to invest in chimes. Jo's name appears on the screen, a small pink heart next to it, along with a photo of her in her glasses holding Toulouse and the message, I think Louie misses you, Sarge.

Another picture comes through. This time it’s of himself, asleep with Louie on his chest. Bucky smiles.

“Sam,” Bucky calls across the boat, “how do you save a photo on this damn thing?” He holds his phone up.

Sam laughs and trots over to him. “Hand it here,” he says.

Bucky hands him the phone, the message from Jo pulled up on the screen.

Sam raises his eyebrows, “Sarge, huh?”

“Don’t say a word,” Bucky warns. “Just show me how to save the photo.”

Sam walks him through the steps, then says, “You can make it your background, you know, instead of this…” he exits out of the text message and looks at the screen, “sad, generic picture.”

“You can do that?” Bucky asks.

“Did you not watch the tutorial videos I sent you, man?” Sam sighs.

Then he holds up the phone, snaps a photo of himself, sets it as Bucky’s home screen, and hands the phone back to Bucky.

Bucky stares at it for a moment. “What the hell?” he mutters.

“Watch the videos so you’ll know how to change it, Sarge.” Sam teases.

_____

Jo spends most of Monday and Tuesday trying not to think about Bucky and failing miserably. The only reprieve she has is band rehearsal which gives her something to focus on that isn't Bucky's hands or mouth or eyes or broad shoulders...

She throws herself into learning new music and tries to avoid texting Bucky every five minutes. They keep a fairly regular conversation going throughout the two days, but she's afraid she's going to scare him off if she seems too enthusiastic.

_____

When Tuesday evening finally arrives, Bucky pulls up outside the bar on a borrowed motorcycle Sam hooked him up with. He's sure that Sam only made it happen so Bucky wouldn't ask to drive his car.

He calls Jo on the intercom outside the residential door to the right of the bar. She buzzes him in, and he takes the stairs two at a time. He's full of nervous energy that he can't seem to burn off. At Jo's door, he runs a hand through his hair before knocking.

When Jo opens the door, Bucky has to stop himself from kissing her immediately. It doesn't seem like the right move for the very beginning of a first date, despite what happened between them two days earlier. Jo's dark hair is loose, falling across her shoulders, and her lips are a deep shade of red. It reminds him of the color women wore in the '40s, but he can't remember anyone looking as beautiful in the shade as Jo does.

She's wearing a black button-down shirt tucked into slim, black jeans, and when Bucky's eyes follow the trail of the gold necklace laying across her collarbone, he's greeted with the sight of the beginning of her sternum tattoo and the lace of her black bra peeking out. He licks his lips and flicks his eyes back to Jo's.

She smirks at him.

"You look gorgeous, doll," Bucky says.

"Not too bad yourself, Sarge," she says, taking in his usual dark jeans and leather jacket. She notices that he's not wearing his gloves.

"These are for you," Bucky says, handing her the small bouquet of flowers he picked up on the way.

Jo smiles and takes them. "You did say flowers." The corner of Bucky's lip pulls up in a smile. "They're lovely," she continues. "Just let me put these in water."

She moves away from the door, and Bucky follows her into the apartment. He watches as she pulls a vase from a kitchen cabinet and fills it with water. He can't stop himself from staring at the curve of her hips and backside in the tight, black denim she's wearing. All thoughts of not kissing her yet are dismissed.

He steps up behind her as she stands at the counter, snipping the ends of the stems and placing the flowers in the vase. Bucky's hands sweep over her hips and around her waist, pulling her flush against his own body — her back against his front. He takes her hair into his hand and moves it, so it falls over one shoulder, granting him access to her pale neck. His lips find the spot behind her ear, and he kisses her gently, before moving down to suck a bruise into the skin where her neck meets her collarbone. Bucky hears the scissors Jo was holding clatter onto the counter.

"If you start that, we'll never get to dinner," she says almost breathlessly.

"I did promise you dinner," Bucky mumbles against her neck.

"You did."

He spins her around and kisses her lightly on the corner of her mouth, careful to not smudge her lipstick.

"Then dinner it is," he says, pulling away and offering her his hand.

Outside, Jo eyes his motorcycle with suspicion. "You want me to ride a motorcycle. In New Orleans," she says.

Bucky shrugs.

"The potholes alone will kill us," Jo argues.

"Do you trust me?" Bucky asks, his eyes shining with excitement and his mouth curved up in a flirtatious smile.

Jo nods. With that look, Bucky could ask her to ride a motorcycle naked through Mardi Gras and she would agree. "Of course," she says.

Bucky's smile broadens, and he places the extra helmet on her head. Jo doesn't care how much this will mess up her hair; she's too focused on how gentle Bucky's hands are as he secures the strap and flips the visor down. He puts his own helmet on and motions for her to climb on behind him. Jo wraps her hands tightly around Bucky's waist as he starts the bike.

He's surprisingly agile as he maneuvers the motorcycle through the streets of New Orleans, avoiding potholes and roadblocks. Jo relaxes her hold on his waist a bit and rests her helmeted cheek against his back. Bucky's heart swells at the thought that she trusts him to keep her safe.

_____

The restaurant Bucky chose from Sam's list of suggestions is housed in a converted warehouse a few blocks from the curve of the Mississippi River. Inside, it's louder than Bucky would have liked, but that also means that Jo sits close to him so she can hear him over the noise, her body angled toward his and her hand resting on his arm as she looks over the menu. Bucky places his own hand on her knee.

He has to remind himself to actually read the menu in front of him instead of just staring at Jo. He's finally made himself focus long enough on the entrees to decide what to order when he hears Jo let out a soft snort beside him. He looks up.

"Sorry," she says before biting her bottom lip to stifle another laugh.

He just stares at her.

"You do this thing," she continues, "when you're concentrating on something, where you squint your eyes, and you rest your tongue on your bottom lip. It's kind of adorable.”

Bucky sets his menu down on the table. "I don't think anyone's ever called me 'adorable' before," he says.

Jo hums and cocks her head to the side, staring at him. "Definitely adorable. But would you prefer charming? Handsome? Incredibly sexy?" Bucky blushes. "Should I go on?" she teases.

Bucky takes her hand in his and kisses her knuckles. "Please don't," he says.

"Not a fan of compliments, Sarge?" she goads him.

"Not used to hearing them," he mumbles.

Jo smiles and squeezes his hand. "We should change that," she says.

The corners of Bucky's eyes crinkle with his smile, and Jo wants to place kisses over each line created. Instead, she closes the short distance between them and opts for placing a kiss on his stubbled cheek. She likes that Bucky lets her do this, lets her show her fondness for him this way. She's always been overly affectionate with people she likes.

For his part, Bucky is enjoying the contact. He used to love to hold a woman's hand, brush the hair from her face, press a kiss to her cheek, and after being denied any form of gentle touch for eighty years, he finds he can't get enough of it. He thought he would shy away from it after so long without human connection, but Jo makes it easy. She seems to make everything easy for him. He thinks about how normal it is to sit in a restaurant with a beautiful woman, and he chokes down the thought that maybe he doesn’t deserve anything easy or normal.

Over dinner, Jo leads the conversation. While Bucky answers her questions and engages with her stories, she's noticed that he prefers to stay quiet, prefers to listen. So, she talks. And while she talks, she observes him, observes the way his eyes follow her hands, the way his tongue drags over his bottom lip, the way his body tenses and turns ever so slightly to an unexpected noise in the room.

"You're very intense," she finally tells him.

"Sorry," he says, running his tongue over his lips again.

"Don't apologize," Jo says. "I like it. I like you."

The corner of his mouth pulls up in a smile, and, for a brief moment, Bucky wants to pour himself out before her, tell her how she makes him feel like himself again after so long. He wants to confess to her, wants to tell her more than he's told Sam or his therapists or anyone in a lifetime – stories of his childhood and family, of Steve and the war, and everything after that. But the words get caught in his throat and the moment passes.

When they step outside of the restaurant after dinner and another drink, there's enough of a late-night breeze blowing to cause Jo to wrap her arms around herself. Bucky shrugs off his leather jacket and drapes it over Jo's shoulders before tucking her body into his side. She lifts her head and smiles up at him as he leads her the few blocks to where the bike is parked.

Before he places the helmet over her head again, Bucky kisses her, his arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her body against his. He nips her bottom lip gently with his teeth and lets his hand wander down her backside, pressing her body impossibly closer. When he finally pulls away, his cheeks are flushed, and his pink lips are slightly swollen.

Jo brings her hand up to cradle his jaw. "Take me home, Sarge," she whispers.

_____

At traffic lights, Jo, warm in Bucky’s leather jacket, finds her hands wandering from Bucky's waist to his thighs, drawing slow circles across the thick muscles there. When they stop at one particularly long light, Jo has to stop herself from letting her hand ghost across his crotch. She’s trying to respect his boundaries, his need to be in control. By the time they reach Jo's apartment, Bucky's half-hard beneath his jeans, and Jo is anxious to get him upstairs.

He parks the motorcycle on the street outside the bar and stashes the helmets while Jo unlocks the building's residential door. When the helmets are locked up, Bucky meets her at the door and guides her inside, his hands on Jo's hips. She turns and presses him against the inside of the door, reaching up to stroke her fingers through his hair and ghost her lips over his, their breath mingling.

"Are you done teasing me?" Bucky growls.

"Never," she laughs and moves out of his reach. She makes it to the bottom of the stairs before Bucky catches up to her. In one swift move, he lifts her up and tosses her over his shoulder, smacking her backside before climbing the stairs. Jo laughs and enjoys the view of his muscled back beneath her hands.

Bucky doesn't put Jo down outside her apartment. Instead, she hands him her keys, and he unlocks the door while holding her with one arm around her thighs. He doesn't set her down in the living room either; he carries her all the way through the apartment to her bedroom and tosses her gently onto her bed. Jo bounces once and laughs before sliding out of his jacket, kicking off her shoes, and pulling Bucky toward her.

"Come here," she says, releasing his dog tags from beneath the collar of his shirt and tugging gently on the chain.

Bucky steps out of his own shoes and climbs onto the bed, hovering over Jo. He pushes a strand of hair out of her face and stares at her. Her lipstick is faded from dinner and their kisses, but her cheeks and chest are flushed red in its place.

“You’re beautiful, Jo,” Bucky says, and he leans down and kisses her gently. They stay like that for a while, kissing slowly, finally breaking away for air and for Bucky to spread kisses across Jo’s jaw and neck.

“Bucky?” Jo whispers. He hums in acknowledgment, his lips pressed against her collarbone. “You're in charge, okay?”

Bucky exhales slowly, his fingers trailing up and down Jo's sides. “Good," he says. "Because first I'm going to make you come apart on my fingers, then my tongue, then my cock."

Jo practically whimpers, and her back arches, her chest pushing toward Bucky’s hands as they trail across her breasts then down to untuck her shirt. His fingers move quickly over the buttons on her blouse, and he parts the fabric to reveal the black lace of her bra. He leans back slightly and takes in the sight of her pierced nipples pressing against the fabric.

"Gorgeous," her murmurs before laving at one of her nipples through the lace. He leans back again and pulls the fabric down to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking gently.

Jo sighs and weaves her fingers into Bucky's hair, her nails scraping against his scalp. Bucky growls against her breast, and his fingers move to the button of her jeans, popping it open and tugging the zipper down. His flesh hand dives beneath the waist of her underwear, and his fingers ghost over her clit. He's moving purely on instinct and maybe, he thinks, muscle memory.

“Bucky,” Jo whines as his hand dips lower, two fingers sinking into her wet heat.

“Fuck,” he mutters. He presses one more kiss to her nipple before claiming her lips again. He strokes her slowly, enjoying the way her walls clamp around his fingers and her eyes fall shut.

“More,” she pleads, and Bucky smirks against her lips. He crooks his fingers and presses his thumb against her clit until she’s gasping.

“Look at me when I make you come,” Bucky whispers, increasing the speed of his thrusts, his thumb pressing harder against Jo’s clit. He feels her tighten around his fingers, and she keens, arching her back, her eyes flying open and locking on Bucky’s. “Good girl,” he praises, and he adds a third finger as she clenches around him and digs her own fingers into the bed sheets, coming undone on his hand.

Bucky slips his fingers out of her and tugs her jeans and underwear down her legs, tossing them on the floor. His hands slide up her legs, over the curve of her hips and across her stomach to reach behind her back and unhook her bra. Jo sits up and shrugs out of her blouse and bra, letting Bucky throw them aside. His hand on her shoulder guides her to lay back down.

Bucky sits back on his heels and takes in the sight of her, from her flushed cheeks to the barbells pierced through her nipples to the trim patch of hair between her legs.

“Fuck, doll, look at you,” Bucky finally says, licking his bottom lip.

Jo breathes out a laugh and pushes at Bucky’s shirt until he’s pulling it over his head. He stands from the bed to pull his jeans off, as well, keeping his boxers on for now, then returns to her, his lips finding hers again. Their teeth clash, and Bucky’s fingers dig into the skin at Jo’s hips, holding her in place, keeping her from pressing up against his crotch.

“Be still,” he whispers, and his teeth nip at her jaw.

Bucky runs his tongue down her neck to the top of her left breast where he stops to suck a bruise into her tender flesh. He soothes the spot with his tongue and a kiss before continuing his path down her stomach to her hip. He uses his tongue to trace the floral pattern inked on the outside of her left hip down the top of her thigh and across to her cunt.

Bucky's heated breath ghosts across her sensitive flesh, and Jo gasps when he dips his tongue into her folds. He laps at her slowly, then sucks her clit between his lips, and Jo’s back arches and her whole body seems to rise off the bed.

“Be. Still,” he hisses again, and his arms wrap around the backs of her thighs to hold her in place.

“There," Jo whines. "Don’t stop. Please."

Bucky shifts his own hips against the bed, seeking any form of relief. He loves the sounds he's pulling from Jo, loves the way she tastes, and the way she ruts against him, despite his iron grip on her thighs. Later, he thinks, I'll lie on my back and let her ride my face until her legs collapse.

Stars explode behind her eyes when Jo comes, and a scream is caught in her throat. Bucky places a final kiss against her cunt, then pulls back and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Jo reaches for him. He kicks off his boxers before settling back over her. She can feel him hot and hard against her thigh, and Bucky reaches down to stroke his cock, pulling the foreskin back with a groan.

"Are you sure?" Bucky asks, his eyes meeting hers.

Jo nods and cups Bucky’s face in her hands. “Are you?” she asks.

"Yes. God, yes," Bucky groans. He hasn’t wanted — needed — anything this badly in so long.

Jo wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him. Bucky fists his cock, running it along her folds to gather her slick, before pushing forward, sheathing himself inside her in one thrust. Jo gasps, her head falling back against the pillows, her neck bared for Bucky’s lips and tongue.

Bucky’s vibranium fist is clenched so tightly in the sheets he thinks he might rip them. He relaxes his hand slowly, the plates that work as his muscles whirring quietly beside Jo’s ear.

Bucky groans against Jo’s neck. “Fuck, it’s like you’re made for me.”

He holds himself very still, giving Jo time to adjust to him, until her hips rise to meet his. He sets a slow pace at first, enjoying the way her body flutters around him. Jo digs her short nails into the skin of his shoulders, and Bucky is surprised to find he likes the slight sting. He shifts her legs even wider with his large hands on her thighs and sits back slightly to watch himself sink into her over and over.

Jo's hands drop to his waist, and she caresses the skin there gently before whispering, "Faster, please."

Bucky practically growls at her request before pulling back and snapping his hips against hers at a frantic pace. Jo keens, and Bucky shifts again to press his body over hers, covering her completely. She can feel his dog tags against her heated chest. He watches her bite her bottom lip, her green eyes meeting his. Jo is lost in his eyes, his pupils blown wide; the look he's giving her somewhere between awe and adoration, and Jo is certain the look in her eyes mirrors his because she is so far gone for him.

“I want to see you come again, pretty girl. Give me one more,” Bucky demands, his thumb rubbing harsh circles against her clit.

That simple command is all it takes to send Jo spiraling over the edge for a third time. Bucky follows behind with a low groan, tensing and burying himself deep within her. He drops his weight on top of her briefly, his head resting against her shoulder, before pulling away and rolling onto his back, bringing Jo into his side.

They lay like that for a while, Bucky running his flesh hand up and down Jo's arm while Jo presses lazy kisses against Bucky's chest. Eventually, she excuses herself to take her contacts out and wash her face, tossing Bucky a clean washcloth from the bathroom door, and when she slides back in bed, Bucky is on her again. He makes good on his promise to himself to have her cunt over his face, pulling another orgasm from her before she falls onto the bed beside him, laughing.

He takes her face in his hands and sweeps his fingers across her cheeks gently. He wants to tell her how amazing she is, how happy he is to have met her, how wonderful the past few days have been, but he isn't sure how to put all of that into words. Not yet.

So, he rolls them both onto their sides, her back pressed against his chest and his flesh arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Jo hums and laces her fingers with Bucky's, her eyes closing. She's warm and happy and sleep is calling her name.

_____

Bucky wakes an hour or so after he's fallen asleep, the beginnings of a nightmare fresh in his mind. When his senses clear, and he feels Jo's body pressed against his, he feels calm. He uses the arm wrapped around her to pull her closer to him and presses kisses against her shoulder until she stirs.

Jo mumbles sleepily and pushes back against him, Bucky's cock nestled against her lower back. His fingers find her cunt, and she's still slick with evidence of their earlier encounter. He presses inside her slowly, groaning as he fills her, her walls tightening around him.

"Bucky," Jo sighs, her hand moving back to grip his hip as he ruts into her.

When he comes, he sinks his teeth into her shoulder to stifle his cry, then runs his tongue across the spot to soothe the sting. Jo drags the hand wrapped around her up to her mouth and kisses his palm. He tries to remember what he would have said to a woman in this situation eighty years ago, but the romantic words don't come.

Instead, he whispers, "I really like you, Jo," against her shoulder.

Jo laughs sleepily. "Good. I like you, too, Sarge."

_____

When Bucky wakes the second time, he’s alone. He can hear faint music coming from another room. He checks his phone. 6:00 AM. He slips out of bed and slides his boxers on.

The apartment is still dark with all the curtains closed, apart from light spilling from a crack in the music room door. Bucky finds Jo sitting on the floor, a guitar in her lap. He knocks and pushes the door open further. Jo turns to look up at him and smiles.

“Sorry. Did I wake you?” she asks. Bucky shakes his head no. “I don’t always sleep well,” she says.

Bucky sits on the floor with her, his back propped against the wall. Jo has to stop herself from staring at his muscled chest and thighs.

"Play me something, doll," Bucky says, resting his head against the wall behind him.

She runs through a couple of songs while Bucky replays the events of last night in his mind.

"Shit!" he says suddenly, sitting up straight. Jo stops strumming and looks at him, bewildered. "I didn't wear a condom," he says.

“It’s okay. I have an IUD so I can’t get pregnant," she tells him. "And I’m disease free. I assume you are...you know, with all that super soldier serum running through your veins," she gestures toward him.

Bucky nods but stays silent.

“Do you know what an IUD is?” she asks in response to his silence.

He blushes. “When the government pardoned me, they made me do a complete physical — doctors poking and prodding me," he shudders involuntarily. "So yeah, I'm clean. Afterwards, I don’t think they really knew what to do with me, so they gave me a bunch of pamphlets on everything from mental health to safe sex.”

Jo hums and mutters something about the state of the American public health system.

“We should have had this conversation before we slept together," Bucky finally says. "That’s what the pamphlets recommend.”

Jo tosses her head back and laughs, and Bucky beams with pride at the sight.

“Come on, Sarge," she says, setting her guitar aside, "I’m taking you to breakfast."

_____

next chapter

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